Reluctant Acquaintances
by tikvarn
Summary: AU. Sam and Andy meet under different circumstances.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Wow! Thank you all so much for the response to the excerpt! That was really overwhelming and I just hope I can meet your expectations. Also, thank you to those of you who were honest and said that AU wasn't your thing but you were willing to give it a shot... I hope this doesn't disappoint. I am looking forward to writing this story and as I'm getting all my ideas down I'm getting more and more excited about it! Oh, and the scene in the excerpt will actually come later in the story (chapter two) so I hope that doesn't confuse anyone. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.

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><p>Andy sat on her couch and stared at the blank wall in front of her. It stretched out before her, almost mocking her in its vast barrenness. She tried to imagine what it would look like with the various canvases and picture frames that were scattered across her floor, each waiting for a spot on the wall.<p>

Taking a sip of coffee, she tilted her head to the side, hoping the new angle would give her a fresh perspective.

All it gave her was a crick in the neck.

Finally, she sighed and set her coffee mug down on the side table. She stood up and eyed the wall menacingly as she turned some music on. The eclectic, colorful melody of Florence and the Machine filled her living room and she jerked her head from side to side, swung her arms and cracked her knuckles, mentally psyching herself up to take on the daunting project.

She picked up a hammer and a nail. Moving to the very center of the wall, she held the nail about half a foot above eye level and then pounded it into sheet rock, stopping when she felt like it was deep enough.

Her nose scrunched as she considered the artwork that littered the floor. She picked up the largest one she could find, an abstract painting with soft, muted colors that she had spied at a flea market, and hung it on the nail, maneuvering it until it balanced perfectly.

Stepping back, she admired her work with a satisfied smile. Emboldened by success, she picked up another nail and hammered it in to the right of the picture. She added another frame and then another and her smile widened, pleased with the progress.

She continued, filling the wall with an assortment of art and framed photographs. Lost in her own little world, she didn't hear the knocking at first and it wasn't until there was a break in the music that she realized someone was at her door.

Quickly turning the volume down, she scurried over to open the door, hammer still in hand.

She threw the door open to find a man standing on her porch, his hand poised to knock again. He was a little bit taller than her with dark brown hair. Behind the glasses he wore she could tell that his eyes crinkled at the edges and were just as dark as his hair. His jaw had a shadow of stubble covering it and she thought that he could possibly be handsome if it wasn't for the scowl across his face.

"Good morning," she said, plastering on a pleasant smile despite her initial assessment of the man.

"Morning," he replied gruffly. He pointed to the townhouse next to hers. "I'm your next door neighbor."

"Oh hi," she greeted, holding out her hand. "I'm Andy, its nice to meet you."

"Sam," he said, taking her hand and shaking it firmly. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place him. "You must be new."

She nodded. "Moved in just a couple days ago, actually."

He poked his head in the door and looked into the living room. "Art project?"

"Yeah," she replied, taking a step back and uncomfortably scratching at her arm, "I'm just trying to get settled in. Sorry it took me so long to answer, I didn't realize anyone was at the door."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Yeah," he said, adopting a tone of false empathy. "Its probably hard to hear over the music."

"Oh, sorry," Andy apologized hastily, feeling herself blush. "I didn't realize it was so loud."

"Don't worry," he replied sarcastically. "All the banging drowned it out."

Her eyes widened in surprise at his blatant rudeness. "Um…"

"Lady, just so you know, we share that wall," he informed her, pointing into her living room at the wall she had been working on. "And it's not thick."

She started to speak but he interrupted her.

"It's the weekend and it's not even eight o'clock in the morning," he continued. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

She looked down and took in his bare feet and pajama pants. "Sorry," she apologized again, flustered. "I work the early shift so I'm always up…" she tried to explain but he held a hand up, stopping her.

"Save it," he said. "Just give us a couple more hours before you go at it again."

Andy narrowed her eyes, completely put off by the man's arrogance. "Fine," she said, straightening her back and folding her arms in front of her chest. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"Nope," he replied sharply, turning to leave. As he was descending the porch steps he called back, "Welcome to the neighborhood."

"It's great to be here," she snapped back, watching as the he rounded the wall between their adjoining porches.

She slammed her door and it shut with a satisfying bang that she hoped he could hear. "Well," Andy muttered to herself, "He was charming."

Sam rolled his eyes when he heard her door slam. Maybe he had been a little rude, he admitted to himself as he made his way into his house, recalling the way her big doe eyes had widened first with hurt and then with indignation. She deserved it though. Who in their right mind made that much noise so early in the morning?

He stopped in his tracks when he saw his niece, Lindsey, standing in the foyer, a large gray robe pulled over her pajamas. It dusted the floor and hung loosely from her thin, preteen shoulders, the sleeves falling past her hands.

Sam's chest tightened as it always did whenever he saw her wearing it, knowing it didn't originally belong to her.

"Did you make the banging stop?" She asked, her eyes still bleary with sleep.

"Yeah, Linds," he replied, smiling fondly at the young girl, "I made the banging stop."

She just nodded her head and yawned, turning to walk up the stairs to her room. "Thanks."

Sam watched her until she disappeared from view and then sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. Knowing he probably wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep, he padded into the kitchen to make some coffee.

Andy was able to successfully avoid her neighbor for the rest of the weekend and the better part of the week. Every time she thought about him she got mad all over again; there were so many things she wished she had said to him but was unable to come up with in the heat of the moment. It was frustrating, infuriating even, to come up with the perfect comeback days after it was actually needed.

However, as she sat at a table tucked into a corner of the Black Penny waiting for her friends, it wasn't her rude neighbor she was thinking about. It was her jackass of a training officer. When they had first been paired up she thought it was understandable that he seemed to be wary of her. She was a rookie after all and knew she needed to prove herself. She had hoped she could win him over as time went on and show that she wasn't as incompetent as he seemed to think she was.

It hadn't gotten any better in the two months she had been working. If anything, it had just gotten worse. No matter what she did, her TO seemed to find and exploit every single one of her faults. It was exhausting having to walk on eggshells and knowing that at the end of the day it wouldn't matter because he would still find something to yell at her about.

She sighed heavily and sipped her beer, wondering once again why she had chosen to go to a different division than her friends. When she was looking at jobs it made sense; she didn't want to be at fifteen because her dad had been at fifteen. She was hoping that going to a different division where she wasn't "Tommy McNally's daughter" would provide her with some much-desired anonymity.

But as she sat there, alone, she couldn't help but think that maybe being anonymous wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Sure, in the couple months she had worked there she had made friends at twenty-seven, but no one like Traci, Chris and Dov. She even missed Gail on occasion. They had all gone through the academy together and she missed being a part of their everyday lives.

She was also sad she wasn't working with her boyfriend, Detective Luke Callaghan. The two met at her father's retirement party and, after dating casually while Andy was in the academy, had become more serious in the last couple of months. They were still taking things slowly and Andy rarely felt completely comfortable with the relationship, but she was willing to see where it was headed.

Andy brightened when she saw Traci walk into the bar. She called out her name and waved her over, standing to give her friend a hug. It wasn't long after that Dov and then Chris joined them, excitedly telling Andy about the first high-speed chase they had gotten to go on.

"It was awesome," Dov said, too keyed up to sit down. He gave them a play-by-play of the events leading up to the chase and then animatedly described driving through the streets of Toronto in hot pursuit of the stolen vehicle.

"Well, I wasn't driving, Swarek was," he admitted, referring to his training officer, "But still, it was such rush."

"You got to cuff the guy though," Chris chimed in, the first time he had gotten to speak since Dov started to tell the story. "It's going down as your arrest."

"Oh yeah," Dov said, nodding enthusiastically. "Swarek was real cool about it. He talked me through the whole thing."

Andy's eyes widened. "That's great!" She said, congratulating her friend while trying to ignore the pang of jealousy that she felt. She had never met Dov's training officer but Dov seemed to enjoy working with him and had learned a lot. Whenever her friends spoke of their training officers it was obvious that the TOs held them to a high standard and expected a lot out of them but, on the other hand, were good about teaching them and guiding them through new, difficult situations.

Andy supposed that it must be nice to work in an encouraging environment.

Her string of thought was broken when Luke walked in the bar. His eyes scanned the space and when they found her, he grinned. He moved with long strides over to her and she angled her face up, waiting for the kiss she knew was coming. His leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. "Hey." he said, bracing one hand on the tall table and the other on the back of her chair.

"Hi," she replied easily, settling her free hand at his waist.

Luke nodded to the rookies at the table. "Guys," he said by way of greeting. He waited for their quiet response before turning back to Andy. "How was your day?"

Andy forced a smile. "It was great," she said. She had tried to tell Luke about the problems with her training officer but he had simply brushed them off as par for the course, so she didn't even bother any more. "You?"

Luke considered the question and tilted his head from side to side. "Fine," he said, "I can't stay very long though. Jo and I have got some work to finish up."

"Okay," Andy said neutrally, her smile tightening at the mention of Luke's partner. The other rookies had started talking amongst themselves, but she lowered her voice and tugged him closer to her. "I'm just glad you came. I feel like it's been forever since I've seen you."

Luke sighed and reached out, threading his fingers through her hair. "I know, I'm sorry. We're just swamped right now."

His eyes met hers and she offered him a small half smile. "I know. It's fine."

He grinned and leaned down to whisper in her ear, "I'll make it up to you. Promise."

Andy's smiled widened hesitantly. "Well, you can start by buying me another beer," she said, holding up her empty bottle.

"I'm on it," Luke said, kissing her forehead before pushing himself away from the table and walking swiftly over to the bar. Andy watched him walk away and her gaze wandered in front of him, landing on the dark haired man sitting with Oliver Shaw.

Startled, Andy recognized him immediately. No wonder she thought her neighbor looked familiar the other day, she had seen him once or twice before at the Penny. He must have noticed her looking because he met her eye and smirked, holding up his bottle. Andy felt a blush creep up to her cheeks, embarrassed to have been caught staring at him, but she smiled any way and held up her own bottle.

"You know Swarek?" Dov asked as Andy turned back around to the table.

"Who?"

Dov nodded back over to Sam. "Swarek, my TO."

Andy's eyes widened in disbelief. "That guy is Swarek?" She asked incredulously, trying to reconcile the surly neighbor she had met with the tough but fair training officer her friends often spoke of.

"Yeah," Dov confirmed. "Sam Swarek." He looked at her and quirked an eyebrow. "How do you know him?"

Andy quickly glanced back at the man before jutting her chin out and admitting, "He's my new neighbor."

Unlike Andy, Sam had noticed his neighbor sitting by herself as soon as he walked into the bar. Ever since getting custody of Lindsey, Sam had only ventured to the Penny a couple of times. Usually after work he raced home so he could be there when she got back from school. She had plans that day though, so when Oliver invited him he decided to tag along.

Andy had been staring at the drink in her hands and wearing a solemn expression, obviously lost in thought, when he and Oliver entered. They had chosen a table on the opposite side of the room and he watched as, one by one, the rookies from fifteen joined her.

Oliver realized that Sam wasn't paying attention to him and instead kept glancing over at something across the bar. "What are you looking at?" Oliver asked, turning in his chair to follow Sam's line of vision. His eyes landed on the pretty brunette sitting with the rookies. "Oh," he said, raising a knowing eyebrow. "Guess who that is?"

Sam played dumb. "Who is it?" He asked, taking a pull of his beer.

"Andy McNally," Oliver answered, turning his attention back to Sam. "Tom McNally's daughter. She's a rookie now over at twenty-seven."

"McNally?" Sam repeated. He remembered seeing a picture of her on her dad's desk and was sure he had met her at a Christmas party at some point. He hadn't recognized her the other day but now, knowing who she was, he could see the similarities to the young girl he had met many years before. To say that she had changed somewhat since then would have been an understatement. "Wow. She's all grown up," he observed unnecessarily.

Oliver nodded in agreement. "Yeah, don't get any ideas though," he warned. "Guess who she's dating?"

Sam was about to inform Oliver that he couldn't care less who the rookie was dating but about that time he saw the bar door swing open and watched as Luke Callaghan walked in, making his was over to Andy and the other rookies. "Callaghan?" he answered, taking a wild shot in the dark.

Oliver looked impressed. "How'd you know?" Sam pointed his beer bottle, directing Oliver's attention back to Andy who, at that very moment, was being greeted with kiss from the detective. She tilted her head back as he leaned down to kiss her and her hair spilled over the back of the chair. "Oh."

Oliver watched the scene with a subconscious sneer until Sam asked, "I thought he and Rosati were on their way down the aisle?"

Oliver turned back around, his face lighting up at the thought of unshared gossip. "They were," he confirmed, lowering his voice. "They got into a huge fight at work though and she called it off. There was yelling and screaming and I think at one point she threw a chair. It was all very dramatic."

"How'd I miss this?" Sam asked, looking confused.

"It was a few months ago. You were either undercover or…" he trailed off uncomfortably, tilting his head to the side and shrugging. "You know."

Sam nodded quickly and then asked, "They're still partners though?" He thought he had seen Callaghan and the tiny, scary detective working together. He couldn't be certain because, as much as possible, he tried to avoid working with Callaghan. Even though he would be hard pressed to put his finger on exactly what it was, there was just something about the guy that made his skin crawl.

Oliver just nodded his answer and tipped his bottle back, taking a long sip.

"That's…" Sam paused for a beat and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms in front of him. "Awkward."

"Yep," Oliver agreed. "But Callaghan seems to have moved right along to rookie pastures. I don't know man, it's strange." He shook his head. "I don't like it."

"Why do you care who Callaghan's screwing?" Sam asked gruffly, raising an eyebrow.

Oliver's nostril's flared slightly at Sam's question. "Just protective, I guess. And don't talk like that," he admonished his friend. "She's McNally's daughter."

Sam grunted an apology, knowing how fond Oliver was of his former training officer.

A silence fell between the two men as Sam watched Luke tweak Andy's hair between his fingers before leaning down to whisper something in her ear. A small smile graced her lips as she nodded quickly, holding up her empty bottle. Luke pressed a kiss to her temple and then made his way over to the bar, signaling the bartender. Andy followed him with her eyes as he went and then she looked past him, her gaze landing on Sam.

There was a moment where he watched as her brow furrowed in confusion and she squinted her eyes, making sure it was really him she was seeing across the darkened bar. Catching her eye, he smirked and raised his drink in acknowledgement, tipping his head slightly. After a moment she smiled, seeming somewhat stunned at his presence, and raised her own drink before ducking her head and turning away.

Sam ran his tongue over his front teeth and then shifted his gaze back to Oliver. "She's my neighbor," he admitted.

"Who?"

Sam stuck his chin out, gesturing over towards Andy. "McNally. She moved in next door to me a week or so ago."

Oliver's eyebrows shot up at the information. "Have you met her yet?" Sam nodded sharply and then pursed his lips, running a hand under his jaw. Oliver eyed him skeptically and then sighed, "What'd you do?"

"What makes you think I did something?"

Oliver just stared at him.

Sam exhaled and ran his hand around to the back of his head, rubbing his hair furiously before answering, "She was hammering something early one morning and I went over and asked her to stop."

"And I'm certain you were polite about it," Oliver guessed sarcastically.

Sam just shrugged, admitting he had been a little harsh. "I didn't want her to wake up Lindsey," he said, looking down. He cleared his throat and then confessed, staring into his empty bottle, "I don't think she's been sleeping lately."

Oliver's expression became serious. "How's she doing?" He asked, approaching the topic with caution. Sam very rarely opened up about his niece and he knew that he had to tread carefully.

Sam sighed. "I don't know man. Sometimes she seems fine and other times…" He trailed off, unable to find the words. "I don't know."

"How's school going for her?"

"Good, as far as I can tell," Sam said, checking his watch. "I actually need to head out, she had some sort of tutoring thing and I need to pick her up."

"Okay," Oliver said as his friend stood from the table. As Sam walked by him he clapped his shoulder. "You know we're here if you need anything brother," he told him sincerely. "Zoe wants to have you guys over and the girls would love to meet Lindsey."

"Yeah," Sam said, "I know. Maybe in a few weeks, I don't want to overwhelm her."

Oliver held his hand up. "I completely understand," he told Sam, and he did. Or at least he tried to. "Whenever she's ready."

Sam just nodded. "Thanks man. Goodnight."

Oliver's lips twisted into a half smile. "Anytime. See you tomorrow."

Sam walked over to the bar to pay his tab and was unsurprised when he felt someone come to stand next to him.

"So," Andy said, sidling up beside him. "You're a police officer."

Sam looked over at her, eyeing her up and down. "So are you," he replied after a beat. Just because Oliver had a soft spot for the woman didn't mean he had to like her.

"Small world," she mused. When Sam just shot her a look of bored indifference she cleared her throat and tried a different tactic. "Look, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot."

"You do?"

"Yes," she persisted. He had to give her credit for being stubborn. "I'm sorry I disturbed your morning."

"Me too," Sam replied smoothly. When he saw the way her shoulders sagged he softened, knowing he was being hard on her. He held out his hand and her eyes brightened slightly at the gesture. "Sam Swarek, I work at fifteen."

"Andy McNally, twenty-seven." She grinned and shook his hand. "So can I buy you a drink?" she asked, motioning across the bar. "Make up for waking you up so early?"

Sam glanced over at Callaghan, noting that he was watching their interaction closely. "Your boyfriend lets you buy other men drinks?"

Andy felt tingles of irritation creep up her neck at his implication that she had to have permission from Luke to do something. "Luke doesn't let me do anything," she told him. Sam raised an eyebrow and she realized what she had said and how it sounded. With annoyed sigh she rephrased, "I mean, I don't have to get permission from Luke to do what I want."

"And you want to buy me a drink?" He clarified, clearly skeptical.

"Sure, why not?" she answered, forcing a smile. "We _are_ neighbors."

"That we are," he agreed. He got the bartender's attention. "Unfortunately," he said, not sounding the slightest bit regretful. "I'm on my way out."

Andy bit the inside of her bottom lip and pushed herself back from the counter, tired of trying to be friendly to the obstinate man. "Fine," she said. "I'm sure I'll see you around."

"See you around," Sam repeated, watching her walk back to the table of rookies. He sighed and threw a couple of bills onto the bar before making his exit.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Thank you for all the wonderful feedback on the last chapter! I tried to reply personally to everyone but I just wanted to reiterate how much I appreciate your reviews! They really do make my day.

On a separate (more important) note, I wanted to let you all know that this chapter gets into why Lindsey is living with Sam. The whole story isn't told, that will come out in time, but I think it's pretty obvious what happened. I just wanted you to know that I recognize it's a sensitive topic and I didn't make the decision lightly. There were several different options that I thought of for Sarah, but as I began to write this chapter I felt the one I chose was the most realistic. It definitely was not a flippant decision and I don't anyone to be offended or think I'm taking it lightly. I'm going to do my best to treat Sarah and Lindsey's story as sensitively and honestly as possible. If you have any questions please feel free to private message me and I will be more than happy to go more in-depth about why I chose to go the way I did.

With that said, I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.

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><p>It had been a couple of weeks since Sam met Andy. Since their run in at the bar he had caught a glimpse of her here and there, but had rarely spoken to her beyond the occasional "hello" or "good morning."<p>

She always smiled at him, which he found to be incredibly annoying. He knew there was no way she could actually be glad to see him. He hadn't exactly been nice to her to begin with and his attitude hadn't changed in the slightest, but it was as if her manners wouldn't allow her to be rude. He could tell the smile was forced, but still, it was there.

Sam also found it highly irritating and inconvenient that since meeting her he seemed to be hyperaware of Luke Callaghan. Before, he dealt with his dislike of the man by completely ignoring him unless absolutely necessary. However, since Oliver had pointed out that McNally and the detective were dating, Sam often found himself watching him through the glass windows of the detectives' office, observing his interactions with Jo Rosati carefully. What he was looking for he wasn't sure, but he knew that something wasn't right between the two detectives.

He didn't understand how a person could continue to work side by side with someone they used to see naked on a regular basis. It wasn't as if they were just colleagues who happened to work in the same division. They were partners.

That day, as he sat at a desk filling out paperwork, he noticed that Callaghan and Rosati were deep in conversation about something. Their heads were tucked in together and they spoke in low, hushed tones. There wasn't anything unusually suspect about how they were talking, but the way that Callaghan rested his hand comfortably on the small of Rosati's back, almost pulling her to him, made Sam's hair stand on end.

"Hey, Epstein," he called, getting his rookie's attention. "You're friends with that McNally girl aren't you?"

Dov looked up at him, surprised. His training officer rarely spoke to him about anything other than the job they were on, paperwork that needed to get done or how much coffee he was going to need to get through the day. "Yes, sir," he replied. "We went through the academy together."

Sam hesitated, an internal debate waging within. It wasn't as if he necessarily cared about Tommy McNally's daughter, certainly not like Oliver did, but he couldn't keep himself from asking, "Isn't she dating Callaghan?"

"Homicide Luke, yep, she is," Dov confirmed. When Sam raised an eyebrow he explained, "You know… because Callaghan is a homicide detective, we call him Homicide Luke."

"Yeah, I figured that one out," Sam replied sharply, tapping his head with his finger.

Dov clamped his mouth shut, chastised. He eyed his training officer curiously, wondering why the man was questioning him about Andy. Knowing he had to play it cool, Dov turned back to his computer. "Any reason you're asking about her?" he asked, trying to sound casual as he kept his eyes trained in front of him.

Sam's eyes flickered over Dov's shoulder to Callaghan before he fixed the rookie with a look. "Nope." He went back to his work, unsuccessfully hinting that the conversation was over.

Dov caught Sam's gaze and he spun in his seat to look at the pair. Exhaling dramatically, he turned back around. "It's weird," he said, leaning over the desk and whispering conspiratorially.

"What is?" Sam asked with a weary sigh, not bothering to look up from the report he was working on.

Dov waited patiently until Sam finally glanced up at him and then motioned with his pencil behind his shoulder. "The dynamic duo. We've all tried to tell her but she insists there's nothing going on between them." He shrugged helplessly, "What can you do?"

Sam took the information in with a nod, keeping his expression neutral. He wanted to ask more questions, find out more information about the couple, but he reminded himself that he didn't care about his neighbor or her boyfriend.

Even if he did find the whole thing weird and strangely aggravating.

With a final glance at Callaghan and a hard look to Epstein, Sam considered the matter dropped.

Later that day, Andy looked in the small mirror attached to her locker door and added the finishing touches to her makeup. She took a step back and gave herself a once over, deciding she looked good enough for the date that Luke had planned for them that evening.

She was surprised that he had asked her to go out that night, knowing that he had to work the next day. Andy wasn't going to complain though, they didn't get much time to spend together and she took every opportunity to see him that she could.

She sat down on the bench to slip her heels on and then stood shakily, taking a moment to get used to the extra height. She tugged the hem of her dress down her thighs, hoping it wasn't too short, then grabbed her workbag and exited the locker room.

Luke was supposed to pick her up at the station but as she glanced throughout the bullpen she didn't see him. It was a beautiful day, so she decided to wait outside for him.

She almost made it to the door when a voice called out to her. "McNally."

She stopped and squeezed her eyes closed, cursing in her head. Turning around, she faced her training officer. "Yes, sir?"

His eyes raked over her and she self-consciously crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Going somewhere?"

"Yes sir. My shift's over," she said, gesturing towards the large clock that hung in the middle of the bullpen.

"Is your paperwork finished?" he asked gruffly.

Andy nodded, "I'm all caught up. I finished yours too."

He sneered at her and she couldn't help but think he was trying to come up with a reason to keep her late, just to ruin her evening. "Did you and Detective Simmons discuss your statement for the Nelson case?"

He was referring to a burglary ring they had been working on with the detective's office. Andy had been the arresting officer for one of the defendants and as such, she was going to have to testify in court. Again, she nodded. "Yes sir. The prosecutor and I are meeting on Friday to go over it as well."

"Good," he said, "We don't need to screw this thing up because you happened to get to him first."

Andy ground her teeth together. She knew she should be used to the insults by now, he was so free with them when it came to her incompetence as a police officer, but she couldn't help feeling offended. It was her first time to testify and she was already nervous enough as it was, she didn't need him riding her about it.

"I know sir," she replied. "I won't mess it up."

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, you'll have to forgive me for not being so confident of that fact."

Andy just forced a tight smile. She wanted to point out that as her training officer he was just as responsible for her performance on the stand as she was, but she refrained. About that time she felt a hand come around her waist. She turned to find Luke smiling down at her, obviously having missed the exchange that just occurred. "Hey," he said, leaning down to kiss her temple. "You look nice."

"Thank you," she replied uncomfortably, eyeing her training officer. He just smirked at her.

Luke stuck his hand out. "Boyd," he said, greeting the officer, "It's good to see you."

Donovan Boyd shook the detective's hand. "Callaghan," he responded warmly, a stark contrast to the way he usually spoke to Andy.

Luke threw his arm around Andy's shoulder. "I hear you're showing Andy the ropes."

"Trying too," Boyd said lightly. "It's not always easy. She's a stubborn little thing." He was pretending to tease her but Andy knew that he wasn't joking.

Luke just laughed heartily, oblivious to the underlying tension. "That she is," he agreed. "You mind if I go ahead and take her? We've got reservations to get to."

Boyd's jovial smile made Andy want to roll her eyes. "Not at all. McNally, I'll see you on Friday. Callaghan," he said, addressing the detective, "Always a pleasure."

Luke nodded and then took Andy's bag from her, leading her outside with a hand on her back. "He's a good guy," he said when they were out of earshot.

Knowing Luke couldn't see her expression, Andy really did roll her eyes before agreeing, "Yep, he is." He held the passenger's door open for her and she slipped into his car. "Where are we going?" she asked when he got in on the driver's side.

"Nota Bene," Luke replied. "It's new, just opened up over on Queen Street."

Andy recognized the restaurant's name from a review she had read online. "Oh," she purred, sounding impressed. She wiggled her eyebrows, "How fancy."

Luke grinned over at her and took her hand across the console. "Of course, nothing but the best."

Andy smiled at him and then settled back in her seat, watching as the buildings of Toronto flew past her window.

It was later that night when Sam climbed the stairs to Lindsey's room. She had disappeared after dinner, claiming she had a "butt ton" of homework to do, whatever that meant, and he wanted to check on her before he went to bed. At first he thought she might have already gone to sleep, but there was a thin line of light peeking out from under her door, so Sam rapped lightly on it. "Lindsey?" He called, putting his ear close to the door to hear her reply.

"Yeah?"

He cleared his throat and then asked, "Can I come in?"

Her voice was shaky when she answered. "Yes."

He opened her door and peeked inside, finding sitting up in her bed, propped up against her pillows. She quickly wiped her fingers over her cheeks and then turned to look at him. His brow furrowed when he saw that her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she had been crying.

He chose not to make a comment about it, knowing that it would embarrass her. Instead, he nodded to the book in her hands. "What are you looking at?"

She held up a photo album. "One of mom's scrapbooks."

Sam smiled warmly. His sister had been a notoriously intrusive and persistent photographer. Years and years of her life, especially after Lindsey had been born, were meticulously catalogued within those books. At the time, when he was barking at her to get the camera out of his face, he never realized just how grateful he would one day be for that particular trait. "Can I see?"

Lindsey nodded and slid over in her bed, making a small space for him. He sat down on top of the covers and threw his arm back across the headboard. She surprised him when, instead of shying away, she scooted in and leaned back against his arm. "It's from when I was born," she told him, opening the book across her lap.

"Oh yeah?" Sam said, looking at the pictures. "I remember like it was yesterday."

Lindsey looked up at him, her eyebrows raised with surprise. "You do?"

He nodded. "I was working when your grandma called to tell me that your mom was in labor, so I turned the siren on and sped down to the hospital." He shrugged. "Turns out labor lasts for like twelve hours and I ended up sitting in the waiting room the whole time." He flipped to a page that had a picture of him holding his niece, still in his uniform. He pointed at it and told her, "That's the first time I got to hold you. You were so tiny, I was afraid I was going to drop you. Your mother was yelling at me to be careful the whole time," he said, chuckling at the memory.

"She yelled at you a lot," Lindsey said, smiling.

"I'm sure I deserved it," He replied honestly.

She titled her head to the side, deep in thought. "Did I look like her?"

"You do now," he told her, taking one of her dark curls between his fingers and tugging on it. "But no, not when you where born," Sam grinned, shaking his head. "I remember thinking that you looked like an alien."

Lindsey scoffed and slapped his chest. "I did not," she claimed.

"You did too," Sam argued. "Your face was all squished up and red and you had these big ole eyes." He widened his eyes comically and looked down at her, making her laugh. Sam wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. "But you were the most beautiful little alien I'd ever seen. Still are."

"Yeah, well, look at your hair," Lindsey said, pointing to the picture. His dark hair was longer and he wore it slicked back. "You look like a wet seal. How much hair product did that take?" She asked, teasing him back.

"Hey now," he said defensively, "My hair was very cool back then."

"Uncle Sam," Lindsey sassed good-naturedly, fixing him with a disbelieving look. "That look has never been cool." She laughed and he couldn't help but laugh along with her.

He ran his hand over his hair. "Well is it better now?" he asked, turning from side to side so she could look him over.

She tapped her finger against her chin, intently pondering the question. When he raised an eyebrow impatiently she giggled and answered, "Yes, it's much better now."

"Good," he replied, sighing with exaggerated relief. He flipped the scrapbook page over and they were met with a picture of Sarah sitting up in her hospital bed, holding Lindsey up for the camera. Her big, bright smile radiated off the page and Sam found himself sucking in a breath.

Lindsey was quiet, staring at the picture. She traced her mother's smile with her finger. "She looks so happy," she commented after a moment.

Her voice was fragile and Sam's heart ached for his niece. "She was happy Lindsey," he told her. "You made her very happy." When Lindsey didn't say anything he continued cautiously, "You have to know that she loved you very much."

Lindsey snorted and he could see angry tears spring her to eyes. She wiped her eyes furiously. "If she loved me so much then why would she do what she did? Why would she leave me?"

Anger flared in his chest as he gathered his niece in his arms and pulled her to him. "I don't know Lindsey," he murmured against her hair. "I don't know."

He held her against him, letting her cry. Her shoulders shook as her body was wracked with sobs, and Sam found himself tearing up as well.

In the couple of months that Lindsey had lived with him, they had never directly discussed her mother's death. Lindsey had moved around like a zombie for the first few weeks and when she finally seemed like she was settling in, he had been hesitant to bring the hurt back up, knowing it would just cause her more pain. If he was honest with himself, he didn't really know how to even broach the subject.

It was hard for his adult mind to comprehend what Sarah had done so he couldn't imagine how difficult it was for Lindsey, her daughter, to understand. He knew that they probably never would.

He held her until she quieted down. Her thin arms circled his waist and he rubbed his hand up and down her back, comforting her as best he knew how.

Eventually her crying must have exhausted her, because he felt her go limp against his chest. He stroked her hair for a few minutes, making sure she had really fallen asleep, before untangling himself from her and climbing off the bed. He pulled the covers up over her and switched off the bedside lamp, bathing the room in darkness. Silently, he padded out of her room and closed the door behind him, wincing at the "click" it made and hoping it would wake her up.

"Damn it, Sarah," he whispered, leaning back against her closed door and rubbing his hand over his face. "Damn it."

Andy woke up the next morning to the sound of the shower running. She opened her eyes, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. It took her a moment to remember that she had slept over at Luke's the previous night. Fumbling for her cell phone, she squinted at the small numbers and realized it was barely six o'clock.

Unlike Andy, Luke had to go into work that morning. He had reminded her of that fact before they had gone to sleep and she had assured him she would leave early so he could lock his house up before he left.

She wanted to suggest that he could just leave her a key and she could lock up herself, but she didn't want to be the one to bring it up.

With a heavy, sleepy sigh she sat up, pulling the sheets up to cover herself, and looked around for her clothes. Spying her discarded dress, she hurried across the room and quickly slipped it on, along with her underwear.

She knocked lightly in the bathroom door before pushing it open. "Luke?"

He opened the glass shower door and stuck out his head to look at her. "Good morning," he said with a grin.

She smiled back, stepping into the steamy room. "Good morning," she replied, pressing a kiss against his wet lips. "I'm just going to head out."

He kissed her again on the lips and then once on the forehead. "Okay," he agreed. "I'll see you tonight?"

"Yeah, just call me when you get off work," Andy said, kissing him once more. She wished that he would invite her to join him, but she knew he wouldn't. Instead she told him, "I had fun last night."

"Me too." He grinned but tilted his head back towards the shower, "I've got to hurry."

"Right," she nodded. With a final smile she headed towards the door. "Bye."

"Bye."

Andy slipped out of the bathroom and found her shoes and purse. She quickly fussed with her hair in front of the hallway mirror and then wiped at the mascara that was smeared beneath her eyes. When she felt like she looked halfway presentable, she stepped outside to hail a cab home.

She was able to get one fairly easily and told the driver her address, sinking into the backseat. Mornings' after were always awkward at Luke's and she supposed she was mostly to blame. At first she had been hesitant to even stay the night, always slipping out after he had fallen asleep, and then she had never bothered to bring anything to get ready with so she really didn't have any choice but to leave.

It bothered her that no matter how comfortable they were the night before, she always felt like she was an intrusion to his routine the next morning.

Thanks to the light, early-morning traffic, it wasn't long before they arrived at her town house. Andy groaned when she saw her neighbor from the cab. He was standing on the sidewalk in front of his townhouse and when the cab pulled to a stop he dipped his head to look inside. She rolled her eyes at the way his face lit up when he noticed she was the passenger.

Despite the fact that she had gone out of her way to be nice to him, he seemed to have an endless supply of sarcastic one-liners to use against her and she hated to give him anymore material.

Andy shoved some money into the driver's hand and then exited as gracefully as she could, balancing precariously on her too-high heels and feeling very exposed in the short, strapless dress she was wearing, all the while trying to ignore his inquisitive eyes.

Sam grinned as he watched her get out of the cab. "Wow," he exclaimed indulgently, folding his arms over his chest as he watched her walk past him. "Making the walk of shame on a Wednesday morning. That's classy, McNally."

She sighed as she fumbled in her purse for her keys. She hadn't gotten much sleep the night before and her patience with him was running low. "Not that it's any of your business, Sam," she replied coolly, standing at the foot of the stairs that led up to her house, "But today is my Saturday."

"Oh, well then," Sam held up his hand in mock surrender. "My apologies. What? Did, uh, Callaghan have to go to work or something? Kick you out of bed?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Why do you care?"

"I don't," he replied simply.

"Why are you even out here?"

Sam motioned to the trashcan in front of him. "It's garbage day," he said as way of explanation.

"Oh, that's right." Andy sighed heavily, having forgotten. She pinched the bridge of her nose, aggravated that her plan of kicking off her heels and falling into her bed as quickly as possible had been derailed. Taking a deep breath, she turned and headed into the alley to get her trashcan.

"I already brought yours out," Sam called, stopping her. She spun around to look at him and he pointed to the second trashcan on the curb.

"Oh," she muttered, caught off guard by the very random and uncharacteristic act of kindness from her neighbor.

"They were right next to each other," he told her casually, not wanting to make a big deal of it. "It was just one trip."

"Well, thank you," she said. She was too tired to consider what the very confusing gesture meant. "That was… nice of you, I guess."

Sam just shrugged and then turned to walk up his front steps.

Andy shook her head and walked up her own steps, pausing to unlock her door. Just as she was about to open it she heard him call out to her.

"Hey McNally?" he said, looking over at her from his porch.

"What?"

His jaw tightened and he sucked his cheeks in as if he were rethinking what he had been about to say. She watched as his tongue darted out over his top teeth before he finally continued, "Your boyfriend," he spat the word out disdainfully, "Is a dick."

The irritation she felt earlier surfaced again and she could feel her face redden, flushing with heat. "That's funny," she replied humorlessly. "He says the same thing about you."

Sam smirked sarcastically. "Aw, you talk about me? That's so sweet."

Andy returned his smirk with a glare of contempt. She pushed her door open and went inside, not even bothering to say goodbye.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: As always, thank you so much for the reviews. I'm glad people seem to be enjoying the story!

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.

* * *

><p>Andy worked the early shift on Fridays, which meant she had to be at work by six. While she hated waking up that early, she loved that the sun was still high and warm on her face as she walked home.<p>

One of the reasons she had chosen her townhouse was that it was only about a mile from the station and on pretty days she didn't mind the walk. It was a good time to be alone and unwind from the day.

Sam was sitting on the stairs leading up to his house when she got home. His head was in his hands and he seemed to be rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes. He didn't see her walk up so she debated saying anything, but in the end she leaned against the wall that separated their porches and called out to him, "Hi."

He looked up and his eyes were red from where he had been rubbing them. He blinked a couple of times, surprised to see her standing there, and then replied, "Hey."

It wasn't an overly friendly greeting but it wasn't accompanied with a smirk and it lacked the edge she had become accustomed to from him.

Andy smiled. "Work the early shift?" She asked, trying to sound sympathetic.

Sam just nodded. "Yep. You?"

She nodded with a weary sigh and then glanced around curiously. "What are you doing out here?"

He looked up at her and quirked an eyebrow. "Just sitting and waiting for you McNally," he told her, reverting to his usual sarcasm instead of giving her a straight answer.

"Well, I'm so flattered," Andy replied with a smirk, making Sam grin. As much as he truly enjoyed getting her flustered he was glad to know that she had a backbone and could stand up for herself from time to time.

It made her relationship with Callaghan all the more puzzling.

He was about to reply when a school bus pulled up. Sam stood to his feet and Andy watched as the bus' door swung open and a young girl with dark curls came flying out, her heavy bag bouncing on her back. The girl glared at Sam and then raced passed him with an exaggerated groan, heading up the steps and into the house.

Andy watched the girl until she disappeared and then turned back to Sam, an amused grin on her face.

Sam was looking at his front door but he quickly shifted his gaze back over to meet hers. With a sheepish grin he admitted, "I'm not supposed to wait outside for her." He rolled his eyes heavenward and then, in a high-pitched voice, said, "I'm just, like, soooo embarrassing."

Andy couldn't help but laugh at his teenaged-girl impression. "How old is she?"

"Twelve," Sam answered.

"Everything's embarrassing at the age, don't take it personally," she told him. "But hey, it's better to be embarrassed than dead." When his face fell slightly she rambled on, explaining, "That's just what my dad used to say when I'd get mad at him for being overprotective and embarrassing me."

"Sounds like something Tommy would say," Sam replied, chucking. "I told her that if I really wanted to embarrass her I would shuttle her to and from school in the police cruiser and walk her to each class in my uniform."

Andy laughed. "Oh yeah, I've heard that one before." She hesitated for a moment and then asked, "You know my dad?"

Sam nodded, "I worked with him for a little while before he went to homicide."

"Ah." Andy tilted her head towards his house. "Well, tell your daughter that if she ever needs to commiserate with someone about having a cop for a dad, I'm just next door and I totally understand."

"Oh no," Sam said, shaking his head, "Lindsey's not my daughter." Andy's brow furrowed. No one had mentioned Sam having a daughter but she had seen the girl around enough to figure out that she must live with him. Noticing her confused expression, Sam explained further. "She's my niece. Her mom is my sister," he paused and his eyebrows knit together. He looked to the ground and admitted, "She, uh, she passed away a couple of months ago, in July."

Sam wasn't exactly sure what had possessed him to share the information with his neighbor while standing in the middle of the street. He ran a hand through his hair and then looked back up at her to gauge her reaction. His dark brown eyes met hers and her forehead wrinkled with what he knew to be genuine concern.

"So Lindsey lives with me now," he finished redundantly, searching for something to say to fill the awkward silence.

"Oh my goodness." Andy's heart sank in her chest, completely taken by surprise at the revelation. Her mouth hung open but no words came out. After a moment she finally spoke. "I'm so sorry."

Sam gave her a small half smile. He was never very good with condolences. "Thanks."

"I'm sorry, that was so inappropriate what I said earlier about being embarrassing…"

Sam interrupted her, waving a hand. "It's fine. You didn't know." There was another awkward pause and then he gestured up towards his house. "I should probably get inside."

"Yeah, of course," Andy said, nodding weakly.

With a final sharp nod, Sam turned and climbed the short staircase, leaving Andy standing alone on the sidewalk.

She watched him enter his house and then shook her head, stunned.

As she was stretched out on her sofa watching television with Luke later that night, she couldn't help but think back to Sam and their brief conversation earlier that day.

Well, she was watching television. Luke had buried his head in a file over an hour ago and hadn't looked up since.

"Hey Luke," she called, poking him with her foot to get his attention.

"Hmm?" was his distracted reply.

She grabbed the remote and turned the volume on the TV down. "Did you know that Sam's sister died a couple months ago?"

"Sam?" Luke asked, as if he didn't know who she was talking about.

Andy rolled her eyes. "Sam Swarek," she clarified. "My neighbor. Your colleague."

Luke looked up from his file. "I know who Sam Swarek is," he said, clearing his throat. "Trust me."

"So did you know about his sister?" Andy asked, ignoring his tone.

"I didn't even know the guy had a sister," Luke admitted. "We don't exactly chat by the water cooler." He thought for a moment and then told her, "It makes sense though."

"What do you mean?"

"Sam was undercover a couple months ago but before the operation finished he got pulled out," Luke told her. "Based on the intel we were getting he was only a couple of weeks away from making a huge arrest, so we were all surprised to see him get hauled into the station in one day." He shrugged. "Then he disappeared for a couple of weeks and came back in uniform."

Andy raised an eyebrow. "And you weren't at all curious about what happened?"

"Not really, no." Luke cut his eyes over to her. "How'd you find out?"

"He told me." Andy answered. "This afternoon."

"I didn't realize you guys were getting close."

Andy pursed her lips, annoyed at his tone. "We're not."

"The Sam Swarek I know wouldn't share that with just anyone," Luke told her, a hint of accusation in his voice.

Andy sighed and then explained, "His niece was getting home from school about the same time I got home from work. He was outside, I asked him about her and he told me."

"His niece?"

Andy nodded. "Lindsey, his sister's daughter. She lives with him now." She was still having a hard time getting over the fact that her gruff, rude neighbor had taken on the responsibility of raising his niece.

"Huh," Luke huffed, processing the information. "Did he say what happened?"

Andy shook her head. "No, we didn't get into any details. I guess we're not that close," she said pointedly.

Luke shot her a look and the closed the file he had been working on. With a lazy grin, he crawled up onto the sofa, covering her body with his own. "You don't need to get that close to Sam Swarek," he said playfully, nuzzling her neck.

Andy, still slightly annoyed with him, placed both of her hands on his chest, pushing him away from her enough to look up at him. "He is my neighbor," she told him. "I have to be… neighborly."

"No you don't. I don't even know my neighbors," Luke retorted, dipping back down to press his lips against hers.

Andy wanted to roll her eyes and tell him that was because he was never home, but she knew it would start a fight. Instead, she tangled her hands in his hair and tried respond to his kisses. His body was heavy against hers and instead of being comforting she found it constricting.

She wondered if he had always been such a sloppy kisser.

When his hand moved down her side and his fingers started to work the button on her jeans, she bucked her hips and pushed him away. Luke braced himself above her and then looked down, confused. "What's wrong?"

"Not tonight," Andy said.

"Why not?"

"I'm not feeling well." It wasn't a lie. Her head was pounding.

"Is this because of Swarek?" Luke asked densely.

She shoved him off of her and sat up, irritated that he would even consider the suggestion. "Not even a little bit."

Luke sat back on his heels and ran his hand through his hair. "Then what…?"

"I had an early morning Luke," she said, looking at her watch. "I've been up for over twenty hours."

"You're the one that invited me over," Luke reminded her.

"Well," Andy argued, "I didn't know you wouldn't get here until almost midnight. And you've been sitting there reading for an hour!"

Luke looked at her, working his jaw from side to side. "Fine." He gathered the files spread out on her coffee table and stood up. "I should probably go anyway. I need to go over this," he waved a file in the air, "before work in the morning."

"Are you serious?" Andy asked in disbelief. "You're leaving because I said we're not going to have sex?"

"I'm not leaving because we're not going to have sex," Luke said, slipping into his loafers. "I'm leaving because I have work I need to do."

Andy chewed the inside of her cheek. She wanted to argue but then she realized she didn't really care that much. If he left it meant that she could go to bed, alone. "Whatever," she replied, flopping down on the sofa and reaching for the remote.

Luke sighed and then bent down to kiss her cheek. "I'll call you tomorrow," he promised.

"Fine," she said, turning her head to meet his lips in a short, chaste kiss. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Luke waited a moment to see if she was going to get up and walk him to the door, but when she turned the volume on the television up he heaved another sigh and picked up his briefcase. With a final look in her direction, he made his way out of her house.

Andy waited until he left and then turned the television off. As she stood and moved around the living room to turn the lamps out she marveled at the fact that out of all the men she had dealt with that day, Sam was the only one that hadn't been an asshole to her.

On Monday Andy dressed in her most professional clothing, a suit that she had bought just for the occasion, and met Boyd and the prosecutor at the courthouse. They went over her testimony once more and then she sat on a hard bench in the hallway, waiting to be called in.

They didn't get to her testimony until later that afternoon. She managed not to throw up on the stand and after the first couple of questions her voice didn't even shake.

All in all, it went well. At least, that's what the prosecutor told her when he talked to her afterwards.

Unsurprisingly, Boyd had a list of things she had done wrong, including the fact that he thought she had worn too much eye makeup and looked nervous on the stand.

"I _was_ nervous, it was my first time," she reminded him.

"Well now that you've popped the proverbial cherry maybe you won't look like a scared virgin next time," he said.

Andy rolled her eyes. She was pretty sure some of the things he said to her bordered on sexual harassment, but she only had to make it through another couple of months with him.

Luke had asked her to meet him at the Penny to celebrate so after she finished up with Boyd she hailed a cab and headed over to the bar. When she got there she found that he had already arrived and was sitting at a table with Jo. Andy hadn't been expecting his partner to join them.

"There she is!" Luke exclaimed, standing up to greet her with a kiss. "How'd it go?"

She forced a smile. "Well I'm here so obviously Boyd didn't kill me," she said jokingly.

"I'm so proud of you," he gushed, pulling out her chair. She climbed up on the chair and scooted herself closer to the high table.

Jo Rosati grinned at Andy. "Congratulations, McNally."

"Thank you," Andy replied tightly. She appreciated Luke's enthusiasm but she couldn't help but feel like she was being made fun of; like because they did it so often, Luke and Jo found it amusing that she had been so nervous about having to testify.

"Are you done or are you going to be called back up?" Luke asked, taking his own seat.

"I think I'm done," she answered. She swept her arms out and continued, "Honestly, I'm just glad I made it through without throwing up all over the judge."

"Well its only your first trial," Jo said. "There's still plenty of time for that." She burst out laughing at her own joke. Andy didn't find it the slightest bit funny but she laughed along gamely.

Luke peppered her with questions about the trial and her testimony and she answered as best she could; really it had just been a standard, by-the-book arrest, so there wasn't much to tell. Eventually the topic shifted to a similar case that Luke and Jo had worked several years before and Andy excused herself to get another drink.

She waited for the bartender to come and take her order, rhythmically tapping her fingers against the counter.

Across the bar she could see Sam sitting with Oliver and Noelle. Oliver must have said something funny because Sam grinned widely and chuckled, shaking his head. He reached over to scratch his shoulder, still grinning, and Andy couldn't help but notice the way his cheeks dimpled in and how his eyes crinkled around the edges. Instead of making him look older it gave his face almost a boyish quality.

Sam caught her looking at him and the grin turned into a smirk in her direction. She smiled back at him and her eyes widened when she saw him excuse himself from his table and make his way over to her.

"Tired of playing the third wheel?" He asked as he sat down on the stool next to her.

Andy turned to face him, "What are you talking about?"

"They look cozy," he said, nodding over to the table she had left. Luke and Jo had turned their chairs so they faced each other and were deep in conversation about something. To any casual observer they would look like a couple unwinding over drinks and discussing their day.

Andy took the scene in and swallowed hard, trying not to let her discomfort read on her face. "They're partners," she said, brushing it off. "Of course they're close."

Sam raised an eyebrow, obviously not buying her seeming indifference to the situation, but let it drop. "What's the get-up for?" He asked.

For the second time in less than a minute she asked, "What are you talking about?"

He pointed at her and waved his finger up and down. "You look like you're getting ready to adjust my insurance," Sam said, grinning.

Andy clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth, pretending to be insulted. "I'll have you know that this is my court suit," she replied, stepping back to modeling it for him.

"Very nice," Sam said, dipping his head slightly. "You had court today?"

Andy nodded and the sat down beside him. "First time."

"How'd it go?" He asked and she was surprised that he seemed genuinely interested.

"I think it went well," she said, shrugging. "My training officer might disagree but the prosecutor seemed pleased." She gestured over to her table, "We're supposed to be celebrating."

"Well then," he said, pulling a couple bills out of his wallet, "Let me buy your drink."

"Oh, no," she said, waving her hand in the air. "That's okay."

He grinned at her and, dear god, his dimples were even better close up. "I insist."

Andy tried to ignore the sudden swarm of butterflies in her stomach and fought the smile that threatened to break, refusing to find her neighbor charming. "Well only if you insist," she heard herself say, and she mentally kicked herself for the flirtatious way in which it came out.

"What'll you have?" He asked, getting the female bartender's attention.

"Vodka cranberry," she answered, gaping as the bartender immediately came over and took Sam's order. She had been waiting for five minutes and hadn't even been acknowledged.

"You sure get good service around here," Andy said after her drink was set in front of her.

Sam shrugged, "Well, I've been coming here for a while."

"Oh yeah," Andy humored him, nodding as she took a sip of her drink, "I'm sure that's it." It had nothing to go with the way the bartender practically melted under his warm gaze.

"What?" Sam asked obliviously.

Andy shook her head, laughing. "Nothing." She paused and then asked, "You're not drinking?"

"Nah. I had one earlier," he explained, "But now that I've got Lindsey at home…" he tilted his head from side to side. "You know."

"Right," Andy said. "Of course. How's she doing?"

"She's fine," Sam answered noncommittally, glancing around. He squinted his eyes and told her, "The first couple of weeks of school were rough for her so she has tutoring a couple of days a week to try and catch up."

Andy nodded, "Well, that's certainly understandable. I can't imagine..." she trailed off, shaking her head.

Sam chewed on his bottom lip and then replied, "Yeah, well. We're dealing with it." Andy could tell he didn't really want to talk about his niece and she didn't blame him for being guarded. She took the hint and changed the topic, asking him how riding with Epstein was going.

Sam chuckled and ran his hand over his face, "Everyday's an adventure, that's for sure," he replied diplomatically. "He's a good kid though, I like him."

"He always has good things to say about you," she told him. "I think you made his entire year when you let him drive the other day." Andy took another sip of her drink and looked behind him, over to Luke and Jo. She watched them for a long moment and realized they didn't even seem to notice her absence. With a long gulp she finished her drink off and set the empty glass down on the bar, feeling slightly lightheaded.

Sam noticed that Andy had gotten distracted and followed her gaze back to her table. When she slammed her glass down on the bar he asked, "You want to get out of here?"

She looked at him suspiciously. Buying her a drink was one thing but coming on to her, right in front of her boyfriend? That was entirely different. "Excuse me?"

"Not like that," Sam said, rolling his eyes. "Trust me sweetheart, you're not my type."

"And what's my type that you find so objectionable?"

Sam glanced behind him once again. "The type of women who date jackasses," he replied bluntly.

She sucked in a sharp breath and her eyes hardened. "Luke is not a jackass," she defended weakly and unconvincingly. "He's a good guy."

Sam shrugged. "Well," he said. "Insurance adjusters aren't my thing either, so you're just out of luck."

She eyed him warily and he found himself smiling, hoping she would accept the gesture as an apology for his earlier remark.

A wave of unexpected relief washed through him when she finally smiled back. "Oh," she said, arching an eyebrow, "And what makes you think you're my type?"

"Please," Sam deadpanned with a straight face. "I'm everybody's type." He winked at her and leaned in closer, lowering his voice, "Just ask the bartender."

Andy narrowed her eyes and slapped the back of her hand against his chest. "I knew it," she said, laughing. "Working those dimples to get better service," she chided, "You should be ashamed of yourself."

He grinned widely, thoroughly unashamed, and sat back in his chair. With a nod towards the bar door he told her, "No, but seriously, Lindsey's going to be home soon so I have to go. You want a ride?"

She was shaking her head to decline when a loud burst of laughter cut through the bar. Andy looked over to find Jo's head thrown back, her hand clutching at her chest, and Luke beaming at his partner, oblivious to the other patrons in the bar.

When she looked back at Sam he simply raised an eyebrow knowingly. She opened her mouth to say something but then the crease between her eyebrows deepened and she closed it without a word.

Sam stood up and pulled his keys out of his back pocket. "I'll wait for you outside," he said firmly. "Gray truck."

"I know," Andy said without protest. She stood to her feet and their shoulders brushed as she moved around him. "I just need to grab my stuff."

Sam just nodded and then slipped out of the bar.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: You guys leave the sweetest, most thoughtful reviews. Every single one of them brings a smile to my face and brightens my day. It really is so much fun to write for readers that are so encouraging and excited about the story. I mean this with the utmost sincerity- Thank you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.

* * *

><p>"So Sam Swarek is your neighbor?"<p>

Andy sighed and shot a pained, annoyed look at Traci, who just shrugged guiltily. It was Friday night and they were supposed to be having a girls' night, just the two of them, but somehow Gail had finagled an invitation out of Traci.

"For the nine hundredth time Gail," Andy replied, "Yes, Sam is my neighbor."

Gail stood up from the sofa and went over to Andy's living room window. She pushed the curtain aside and peeked outside, looking into Sam's backyard. "Please tell me he mows his lawn without a shirt on."

Andy immediately thought back to the previous weekend, when she'd been awakened by the sound of a lawnmower. Looking out her bedroom window, she saw Sam outside, cutting his grass. She was about to go outside and bust him for being so loud so early in the morning, but just as she was opening the door out onto her small back patio, he'd reached around to unlock the small gate that separated their yards. She watched as he quickly mowed her back yard as well.

She could have gone out to stop him, to tell him that she could take care of it, but she got the feeling that Sam got some kind of weird gratification out of doing chores for her. And who was she to argue with that, especially when it meant that she wouldn't have to haul her dad's old lawnmower out to do the job herself?

When he finished she stepped out on to her patio and waved at him. He saw her and shut the lawnmower off.

"Thank you!" She called out.

Sam shrugged and then gruffly replied, "I was getting tired of looking at your overgrown weeds."

Andy pursed her lips. "You know, you could just say 'You're welcome, Andy,' like a normal person."

"And you could keep your grass cut like a normal person," Sam said, pulling up his shirt to wipe the sweat off of his brow.

Andy was momentarily transfixed by the way the early morning sun reflected off of his sweat-glistened abdomen. Realizing what she was doing, she scolded herself. "Well," she said, "I guess we're not normal."

Sam let his shirt drop, hiding his toned stomach from her view, and smirked back at her. "Guess not, McNally."

When her friend didn't answer, Gail glanced back at Andy and, seeing the blush that rose to the other girl's cheeks, grinned. "Oh my god, he does, doesn't he?"

"No," Andy said firmly, shaking her head. "He does not." Gail continued grinning at her so she rolled her eyes and relented, "He may or may not have been wearing a black wife-beater."

"Even better," Gail mused indulgently, her voice going low and velvety smooth. "You can help him take it off when he's done. Offer him a cool glass of water or maybe a nice, refreshing shower." Her grin widened and she looked outside again. "I'd let him mow my lawn anytime he wanted," she said, waggling her eyebrows. "If you know what I mean."

Traci scrunched her nose in disgust and threw a pillow at Gail, "Perv."

"Prude," Gail retorted quickly, easily catching the pillow that had been hurled her way. "Don't act like you haven't noticed that there's an incredible body under those police blues."

"I haven't, actually," Traci claimed innocently.

Andy nodded, agreeing with Traci. "And I've never seen him in uniform," she said, "So I wouldn't know."

Gail looked between her two friends and then rolled her eyes. "Oh whatever. That man is living, breathing, walking sex on a stick. He's got that whole smoldering eyes, bad-boy with a heart of gold thing going on. It's hot." She nodded decisively, "I'd do him."

"Except that you can't," Traci reminded her, "Since he's your training officer."

"True." Gail shrugged and the looked over at Andy, her eyes lighting up. "Of course, he's not Andy's training officer. You should totally do him and report back," she said to Andy, "Take one for the team, come on."

Andy rolled her eyes. "I am not going to do Sam Swarek. Need I remind you that I'm dating Luke?"

Gail's lip curled up on one side. "Oh please, we all know that's not going to last long."

Traci saw the hurt that quickly flashed across Andy's face. "Gail!" Traci admonished.

"What?" Gail asked, plopping down into a chair and throwing her legs over the arm. "Sooner or later Andy is going to wake up and realize that Boy Wonder is still completely hung up on Rosati."

"He is not," Andy scoffed defensively, "They broke up months ago. He doesn't have feelings for her."

"Look, I'm not saying it makes any sense," Gail continued, "God knows I hate that skinny little bitch, but Andy, if you saw what we saw every day you'd know that those two are not anywhere close to being over each other."

Andy glared at Gail and then looked back to Traci for support. Traci just smiled weakly and then reluctantly admitted, "I hate to say it Andy, but she's kind of right."

Gail nodded, feeling vindicated. "I _am_ right."

Andy sighed and looked between her two friends. She couldn't silence the nagging voice inside of her that said her friends were right, but she also wanted to trust Luke when he told her that he and Jo were just friends. "I don't want to talk about this," she said. "We're supposed to be having fun."

"You're right," Gail agreed, "Let's discuss something more interesting." She grinned naughtily. "Like Swarek's truly fantastic looking ass."

Andy and Traci looked at one another warily, both fighting to hide their grins. When they both noticed the twitch of the others' lips, they couldn't hold it in any longer and erupted into a fit of giggles.

Laughing, Andy stood to her feet, thankful for the change in topic away from her relationship with Luke. "Who wants wine?" She asked, moving towards the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, she was met with a chorus of "me!"s from her friends.

She pulled the wine out, it had been a housewarming present from Traci, and was about to uncork it when there was a knock at her door. She quickly made her way over to the door and stood on her tiptoes to look through the peephole.

"Who is it?" Traci called from the sofa.

Andy settled back down on her feet. "It's Sam," she said. When Gail squealed with delight and clapped her hands, Andy whirled around and pointed at her, warning, "Do not embarrass me."

"Who me?" Gail held her hands up, looking like the perfect picture of innocence.

There was another knock and Andy took a deep breath before opening the door.

Sam stood in front of her, one hand braced high on the doorframe. "Hi."

His dark gray t-shirt rode up just enough to show a sliver of skin above the boxers that peeked out from his low-slung jeans.

Andy swallowed hard, Gail's declaration of his incredible body ringing in her ears. "Hey," she replied, trying to sound casual as if he, or rather, his ass, had not just been the topic of conversation.

He leaned into her house and saw Traci and Gail. "Ladies," he greeted, nodding his head. Looking back at Andy he asked, "Am I interrupting something?"

"Um no," she said, shaking her head. "We're, you know, just hanging out."

"Oh, okay." His eyes squinted and Andy could tell he wanted to say something.

"Did you need something?"

He nodded and took a step back, motioning for her to join him. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

With a glance back at Traci and Gail, who were both looking at her with wide eyes, Andy stepped out onto her porch and closed the door behind her. "What is it?"

"I need to collect on that favor you owe me."

Andy arched an eyebrow. "What favor?"

"Take your pick McNally," he replied, ticking them off on his fingers, "I drove you home from the Penny, I cut your grass, I've taken your garbage out like, three times…"

"Aw, and here I thought you were doing all that out of the kindness of your heart," Andy teased, letting her head fall to the side.

"Nope," Sam said, grinning, "I've just been racking up favors."

Andy leaned back against her door and crossed her arms over her chest, smiling at him. "Well, I kind of like this… you needing something from me. Let's hear it."

He cleared his throat and his expression turned from playful to serious. "You have tomorrow off, right?" When she nodded he went on, "Jerry called me and needs me to go down to the station in the morning for a couple of hours."

"Okay," Andy said, prodding him to continue.

"Lindsey's already gone to sleep and I don't want to wake her up," he explained. "But I also don't want her to wake up to an empty house in the morning."

"So you want me to babysit?" Andy concluded, surprised. Sam didn't seem like the type of person to ask for help and she was fairly certain he wouldn't let just anyone around Lindsey.

"Just until she gets up," Sam said. "You don't have to stay after that, she'll be fine."

"Lindsey doesn't know me," Andy reminded him. "Won't it scare her to have some stranger in the house?"

"She knows who you are," Sam told her. At her confused expression he told her, "She asked me about the pretty neighbor lady I was talking to when she got home from school the other day."

"Pretty neighbor lady?" Andy repeated, amused.

"Her words, not mine," Sam quickly clarified, his lips curling at the ends.

"Oh right," Andy said, recalling their conversation from the bar. "Because I'm not your type."

Sam grinned. "Exactly. But anyway, I told her who you were and she's seen you around, so she knows you're not a stranger. " He paused and rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly seeming uneasy, "Look, I know it's a lot to ask but I'll pay you…"

Andy waved her hand, interrupting him. "No, you don't have to do that," she said, "It's fine. What time do you want me to come over?"

Sam sighed. "It's early."

Andy narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "How early?"

"Six."

He winced when she groaned. "Six?" she repeated, whining.

"The D's office has an operation going down tonight and he thinks he'll need me to help with some of the interviews," he explained.

"The DeLuca case?" Andy guessed.

Luke had been absorbed with the case for the better part of two weeks; from what he had told her, it was a joint venture between homicide and the drug squad to get Rocco DeLuca, a known drug trafficker thought to be responsible for ordering the murder of the prosecutor on his case. That night he was supposed to be showing up at a friend's restaurant for his little sister's engagement party.

"Yep, that's the one," Sam confirmed.

"Why aren't you on the surveillance team?"

He smiled patiently. "Well lately I've been trying to work more regular hours."

Andy could have kicked herself. Obviously he wasn't going to go on the surveillance team, not with Lindsey at home. "Right, of course." She looked at her watch. "Six o'clock. That's in like… seven hours."

"I know," he said.

She eyed him for a stretch and then grumbled, "Fine. I'll be there. I expect coffee though."

"Of course," he agreed readily. Something caught his attention and his gaze briefly flickered over to movement in her window. When he looked back at her she could have sworn that she saw his eyes darken with a mischevious gleam.

Taking a step towards her, he braced his hand behind her and crowded into her personal space, making her move backwards until the door halted her retreat.

"So you're having a girls' night or something?" He asked and her eyes immediately went to his full lips, watching the way he formed the words.

Her breath caught in her throat. "Yes," she squeaked out, her obvious discomfort making him smirk with satisfaction. He leaned in closer to her and just as his body brushed against hers, she put a hand up to his chest, stopping him. "What are you doing?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he trailed his free hand up her side to rest on the curve of her waist and his eyes softened as he bent his head, his lips stopping a fraction of an inch away from hers. She could feel his breath against her face and for a second she was certain he was going to kiss her. She drew in a sharp breath and, as if on it's own accord, her hand ran across his chest to grip his shoulder, her fingers pressing into the solid muscle.

"Sam…" she breathed, knowing she should push him away but not being able to get the message to her hands.

"Hmm?" He asked, brushing his nose against hers, nuzzling her cheek.

"What are you doing?" She asked again, her voice unsteady.

His lips opened and she instinctively tilted her head up to meet them, but he shifted before they made contact and whispered into her ear, "Just giving you guys something to talk about."

Her whole body shuddered at his husky voice and she closed her eyes, at first not understanding what he said. She ran the words over again in her mind and when realization dawned her eyes flew open to find that he had taken a step back, out of her grasp, and was grinning at her maddeningly.

"Jerk," she accused as she narrowed her eyes into a glare, which just made him laugh.

Jutting his chin towards the window he said, "Tell Peck that if she ever wants to go undercover, she's going to have to be a lot more stealth." He turned and practically skipped down her steps. "See you in the morning."

Speechless, Andy watched him go without a word. She took a moment to catch her breath, more affected by his proximity than she wanted to admit even as she stood by herself on her darkened porch. After a long moment, she straightened her spine and pushed open the door to find Traci and Gail standing right inside, both with dumbfounded expressions on their faces.

With a heavy sigh Andy stepped into the house. "He could see you, you know," she told them accusingly, shutting the door.

Neither woman even pretended to care. "What the hell was that?" Gail asked, folding her arms over her chest.

"What was what?" Andy asked innocently.

The two women looked at each other and then back at Andy. "Oh girl," Traci said, raising an eyebrow. "You have got some serious explaining to do."

The next day, Andy groaned when her alarm clock went off way too early for a Saturday morning. She threw her covers off and stumbled towards her bathroom, her eyes still clouded from sleep. Her head felt a little achy but she was glad Sam had shown up when he did- she'd kept herself to one glass of wine to avoid what could have been a very embarrassing hangover.

As she quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth, she thought back to the night before, to the little stunt that Sam had pulled on her porch. She hadn't been entirely successful in convincing Traci and Gail that there was nothing going on between them and that Sam had only pushed her against the door because he knew they were watching.

"Whatever," Gail said, shooting down her theory, "We saw the whole thing. He looked like he was about to devour you."

"Oh he did not," Andy said, rolling her eyes. "He was just being a jerk. Besides, he told me flat out that I'm not his type."

"The man worked undercover for years Andy," Traci reminded her. "He's basically a professional liar."

"Well, I don't think he's lying about this," Andy said. "And even if he were, I am not interested in him, so it doesn't matter."

They both looked at her, obviously not buying her protests, but when she threatened, "The next person to say something about Sam doesn't get any wine," they let the subject drop.

As Andy was pulling her hair up into a ponytail, she looked in the mirror and tried to give herself a pep talk. She was going to make it very clear to Sam that she was not interested in him and that what he had done the night before wasn't funny, it was rude and disrespectful.

She nodded firmly, psyching herself up, and then finished getting ready. Five minutes later she found herself standing in front of his door, debating whether or not to knock and risk waking Lindsey up.

The decision was taken away from her when the door was thrown open, catching her off guard. Sam stood before her with a mildly amused expression on his face. "It's a door McNally, you knock and it opens."

Andy rolled her eyes. "I know how a door works Sam."

He moved out of the way so she could step into his house. "Well you were standing there for so long, I wasn't sure if you understood the concept."

"I didn't know if knocking would wake Lindsey up," she told him, following him to the kitchen. It was strange to be inside his house- it was laid out exactly the same as hers, just opposite, like a mirror image.

"Ah," Sam said, pulling a travel mug out from one of the cabinets. "Her room's upstairs so you should be fine."

"Okay," Andy said, leaning against the counter. "How long do you think you'll be?"

Sam shrugged, filling the travel mug before pulling another one down. "Three or four hours maybe, I'm not sure. She may still be sleeping when I get home. Coffee?"

She nodded, "Thanks."

"There's creamer in the fridge but I hope you don't take sugar," he said, pouring her coffee, "Because I don't have any."

"No, just creamer is fine," she replied, taking the mug when he offered it to her.

"Okay," Sam pulled a piece of paper out of a drawer and scribbled something on it. "Here's my cell number. If I don't answer you can call the station and they'll come get me." He held the paper out to her and, as seriously as Andy had ever seen him be, said, "Call me if you need me. For any reason."

He didn't elaborate on why she might need him, but she could draw her own conclusions. "I will," she promised, slipping the piece of paper from his fingers.

"TV's over there," he said, pointing into the living room. "I don't know what you're going to do until she wakes up but…"

"I'm sure I'll be fine," Andy said. Sam looked at her and she could tell he was questioning his decision to leave. She assured him, "I'll be fine, Lindsey will be fine. We'll both be… "

"Fine," Sam finished. "I know. I got it."

She tried to smile convincingly at him and he silently regarded her for a moment, narrowing his eyes. Her smile fell and she shifted uncomfortably under his intense gaze. "You're right," he said finally, "It'll be fine." Grabbing his wallet off the counter, he pocketed it before picking up his keys and travel mug. "Alright, I'm outta here."

Andy knew if she was going to talk to him about the night before, she had to do it then. She quickly gathered her courage and then moved in front of him, stopping his exit from the kitchen.

Sam stopped abruptly and looked down at her. He raised an eyebrow and she could read the question written on his face.

"Sam," she said softly, carefully. "I think we need to talk."

He groaned and she knew he knew exactly what she wanted to talk about. "McNally, I don't have time for this, I'm going to be late," he said, curling his arm around to look at his watch.

She put her hand on her hip. "This is important."

"Oh, I have no doubt it's right up there with bringing peace to the middle east," he replied condescendingly. "But unfortunately, I've got to go." He quickly darted around her and headed towards the front door.

"Fine," Andy stuttered, not really having another choice. She sighed and then called after him, keeping her voice low, "But we _are_ going to talk when you get back."

"Can't wait!" Sam called back.

When she heard the click of the door closing, Andy frowned. That hadn't gone quite like she had hoped but she shook it off and told herself she'd have another shot when Sam got home. She fixed her coffee and then walked into the living room, intent on finding something to watch until Lindsey woke up.

There was a marathon of some design show going on, so Andy nestled into the sofa to watch. The hours and episodes passed quickly and Andy didn't hear so much as a peep out of Lindsey. Just as she was starting to worry and wonder if she should check on Sam's niece, she heard a voice come up behind her.

"I can't wait to tell Mr. Oliver you're watching _Project Runway_. He's gonna make fun of you so much." Andy sat up quickly and looked over to where the voice was coming from. When Lindsey saw that it was Andy lying on the sofa and not Sam, she jumped and her eyes widened with surprise. "Oh wow," she said, her hand coming up to cover her heart. Stating the obvious, she pointed out, "You are not my uncle."

"No," Andy chuckled, shaking her head. "I'm not. I'm Andy from next door."

She took in the young girl's appearance. Like Sam, Lindsey had dark hair and dark eyes and even for her age she appeared to be very petite. Andy noticed that she was practically swimming in a large gray robe, which probably made her seem even smaller. Her features were much more delicate than Sam's and even though she had some requisite preteen awkwardness going on, Lindsey was a very pretty girl.

Lindsey nodded and moved into the living room. "I know, my uncle told me about you." She eyed Andy curiously, "Did you spend the night here?"

"Oh, no!" Andy exclaimed, quickly dismissing the idea, not wanting her to get the wrong impression. "No, no, no."

"So, no?" Lindsey repeated. Andy didn't miss the hint of teenage sass in her tone.

"Yes," Andy said and then shook her head, "I mean no, I did not spend the night here." She took a deep breath and then explained. "You're uncle had to go into work so he asked me to come over for a little while."

Lindsey raised an eyebrow, "Like a babysitter?"

"He just wanted someone to be here when you woke up," Andy told her, knowing that a twelve year old would not want to have a babysitter. "He didn't want you to be alone."

"I guess that makes sense," Lindsey said, accepting the explanation.

Andy noticed that Lindsey was glancing around so pulled her feet up to make space at the end of the sofa. "Do you want to join me?" She asked. She knew Sam said she could go home when Lindsey woke up, but she didn't feel right about just leaving right away. "This episode's almost over but I think another one is coming on."

"Okay." Lindsey yawned as she sat down and brought her knees up to her chest, curling against the armrest.

"Did you sleep well?" Andy asked.

Lindsey didn't turn her eyes away from the television. "Yeah," she deadpanned, "It's a lot easier to sleep in when no one's banging on the wall."

Andy's eyebrows shot up at the pointed jab. If there had been any question that Sam and Lindsey were related, the sarcastic tinge to her words removed all doubt.

"I'm really sorry about that," Andy replied pleasantly, purposely not responding to the girl's attitude. "I didn't realize how thin the walls were."

Lindsey just shrugged. "It's okay."

Neither said a word and even with the television on for background noise, Andy felt an awkward tension in the room. "So…" she said lightly, trying to make conversation, "How's school going?"

"It's fine, I guess," Lindsey replied. After a brief pause she admitted, "It's a lot bigger than my old school."

"Yeah, that can be kind of overwhelming, huh?" Andy scrunched her nose up sympathetically as Lindsey nodded. "You'll get used to it, I promise." Again Lindsey was quiet, so Andy racked her brain to think of something to talk about. "Do you know the Shaws? Oliver and Zoe?"

Lindsey finally looked over at Andy. "Yeah, we went over to their house for dinner the other night."

"Oliver's hilarious, isn't he?"

Lindsey cracked a grin, which Andy was thankful to see, and nodded. "Yeah, he's really funny."

"His daughters are about your age, aren't they?"

"Isabella's in fourth grade," Lindsey said, "And Hannah's in eighth. She's a year older than me."

"Oh that's good!" Andy said. "Do you go to the same school?"

"Yeah," Lindsey nodded. She fidgeted with her hands. "Hannah's really nice. She invited me to go to the homecoming dance with her and her friends."

"Well, that'll be fun!" Andy said, trying to sound enthusiastic. "When is it?"

"Next week," Lindsey answered quietly. "On Friday."

Andy could sense Lindsey's lack of excitement. "Hey," she said, nudging the girl with her foot. "What's wrong?"

Lindsey sighed heavily. "I think it's just a pity invite," she confessed. "I bet her parents made her ask me."

"Oh no, I'm sure that's not it," Andy promised, her brow furrowing. She reached out and patted the girl's leg. "She wants you there."

Lindsey shrugged, unconvinced, and turned her attention back to the television. The episode Andy had been watching was over and a new show, one Andy had never seen or heard of, was coming on.

"This looks like a really dumb show," Lindsey commented after the opening credits.

"Would you rather watch a movie?" Andy offered.

"Sure, whatever," Lindsey agreed indifferently, propping her elbow against the armrest and cushioning her head in her hand.

When Lindsey made no effort to move from her spot, Andy got up from the couch and walked over to the DVD towers that stood next to the television. Scanning her eyes over the titles, she found that the movies had been arranged in alphabetical order. "Your uncle's pretty organized, huh?"

"Oh yeah," Lindsey said. "He's a big time neat freak." She laughed to herself and then told Andy, "He even irons his jeans."

"No way!" Andy exclaimed, dropping her jaw dramatically before laughing along with Lindsey. She mentally filed the information away for later use. There weren't very many movies Andy thought Lindsey would be interested in, Sam's collection consisted mostly of actions films and the occasional historical biopic, but she called out a couple of options and they finally decided on one.

"You know Lindsey," Andy offered cautiously, popping the DVD out of it's case and sliding it into the player. "I could help you get ready for the dance if you wanted. We could do your hair and your nails and maybe some makeup, as long as your uncle says its okay. We could make a spa day out of it. What do you think?"

She turned back around to Lindsey and her heart immediately sank in her chest.

Lindsey's chin was quivering and tears were welling up in her eyes. "Oh Lindsey," Andy murmured, impulsively crossing the room to wrap her arms around the thin girl. By the time she reached her, big crocodile tears were starting to fall down her cheeks.

"Oh sweetie," Andy said quietly, feeling incredibly helpless, "What's wrong?"

Lindsey hiccupped, trying to stop herself from crying, but she just ended up crying even harder. Her fingers clutched at the back of Andy's shirt and Andy could feel the girl's tears seeping through the material.

"It's okay," Andy assured her, rubbing her hand up and down Lindsey's back. "It's okay, you can cry."

She held the girl as she cried, supporting her as the uncontrollable sobs wracked through her small body. Andy wasn't certain what had triggered the meltdown but she didn't have to ask what it was about.

Lindsey's sobs were gut-wrenching and Andy found herself physically hurting for the girl. She had been just a little younger than Lindsey when her mother left and while she knew the experiences weren't exactly the same, she felt like she could understand a little bit of the pain that the girl was dealing with. She remembered how there were times when she was happy one minute and then the next something would remind her of her mom and she wouldn't be able to stop the flood of tears that sprung from her eyes.

After a few minutes Andy heard the front door slam and looked up to find Sam staring at them in horror. "What the hell is going on?" he asked, moving into the living room.

Andy shrugged helplessly, still holding on to Lindsey. "I'm not exactly sure," she answered honestly, shaking her head. "We were talking about the school dance and then she got upset…"

Lindsey drew in deep, heaving breaths, trying to calm herself down so she speak, but when Sam grabbed her shoulders and tugged her to him, she broke down again, weeping into his shirt.

"I'm so sorry, Sam," Andy said, letting him pull the sobbing girl away from her, "I really don't know what happened."

Ignoring her, Sam smoothed Lindsey's hair down and pressed his lips to the top of her head, whispering words that Andy couldn't make out.

She stood by uncomfortably, her heart aching as she watched Sam try to comfort his inconsolable niece. Not knowing what else to do, she reached her hand out to rest it on Lindsey's back.

Sam saw her hand and looked up from his niece. "Get out," he demanded, his voice cold and his eyes hard as stone.

Andy's shoulders sagged and her brow furrowed, confused at his sudden anger. "Sam…" she tried again, but he cut her off.

"Now," he said firmly, his tone harsh. "Get out now."

Hurt, it took her a moment to react. When she did, Andy swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay," she said. She glanced around the room and gathered her things quickly. With a final glance back at Sam and Lindsey, she quietly slipped out the front door.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: This one's a little shorter than the others, but I thought the material warranted it's own chapter. Plus it means a slightly faster update time :). Thank you so, so much for your reviews on the last chapter. I got wrapped up in finishing this chapter, so I haven't responded to very many people, but I want you to know how much I sincerely appreciate your thoughtful reviews. Like I said before, they truly make my day.

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.

* * *

><p>Sam was sitting on her steps when she got home from work the next day. She was still half a block away when she saw him and her pace slowed to a stop.<p>

He hadn't noticed her coming and was looking at the ground, scuffing at something with his shoe. He rubbed the back of his neck and then fiddled with the strap of his wristwatch and even from where she stood she could tell that he was anxious.

She wanted to be angry with him, to be furious that he had so quickly rushed to conclusions and kicked her out of his house without giving her the benefit of the doubt or the opportunity to explain. She wanted to be angry with him because anger was far less confusing than the swirl of emotions that weighed heavily on her chest, making it difficult to breath.

It was the overwhelming sadness she felt that was crushing; sadness for Lindsey and for him. No matter how much she wanted to be angry, she just couldn't bring herself to it.

A car horn blared behind her and he jerked his head up at the sound. She watched, almost detached, as his eyes landed on her still form and focused in recognition.

They stared at each other, neither moving, for what felt like an eternity but in reality was probably only a couple of seconds. She hiked her workbag up onto her shoulder and made the conscious effort to put one foot in front of the other and start walking again, stopping only when she reached the base of her stairs.

He stood when she reached him, brushing the dirt from his jeans. Facing her, taking in her expectant expression, his mouth gaped open and then he closed it, the muscle in his jaw twitching with words left unspoken.

When he didn't say anything, Andy sighed and with a slight, disappointed shake of her head, turned and started to climb up the steps.

He grabbed her arm as she attempted to brush by him. "Andy."

It was his use of her first name that stopped her. In the time they had known each other, he'd never once called her by her first name.

She turned back around to him and her shoulders sagged, defeated. "Look, Sam, I've had a really bad day, so if you're here to yell at me I'd really appreciate it if you could just come back later."

"I'm not going to yell at you," he promised. His voice was low and Andy thought that he sounded exhausted.

She stared at him for a long moment before asking quietly, "How's Lindsey?"

Sam couldn't handle the sincerity in her eyes, not after he had been so cruel to her. He glanced away. "She's fine."

"Good," Andy replied. "I was worried."

Again, her genuine kindness made him wince. "She told me what happened," he said. "I know you didn't say anything to intentionally upset her."

Andy narrowed her eyes. "Of course I didn't intentionally upset her," she snapped. "How could you even think that?"

"That's not…" he shook his head and looked down at the ground, "That's not what I meant."

Andy raised an eyebrow, content to wait silently as he struggled to try to find the words to say, to explain.

"I think I need to tell you what happened to Lindsey's mom," he said, squinting up at her.

Her face pinched with incredulity. "Why?"

It wasn't the reaction that he was expecting. "What do you mean, why?"

"No one at fifteen knows what happened, at least no one that I know…"

He interrupted her, his voice raised with accusation, "You asked them about my sister?"

"No," Andy responded firmly, "I asked them if anyone knew why you weren't undercover anymore. See," she pointed out, "That right there is why you shouldn't tell me, because you don't trust me."

"I wouldn't have left you with Lindsey if I didn't trust you," he said, as if his trust in her should have been implicit with the request.

"You certainly didn't trust me when you walked into your house yesterday," Andy replied, her eyes wide. "You didn't even give me the chance to explain or Lindsey time enough to calm down and tell you what happened before you assumed the worst and kicked me out."

Sam's face tightened with a grimace. "I know."

"Look," Andy replied, "I'm certain that whatever happened is very personal, and I get that, I do. I don't want you telling me something because you feel guilty and then later regretting it."

"I want to tell you," Sam told her, determined.

"Why?" She asked skeptically. "We barely know each other. We're not even friends, we're more like… acquaintances."

"We're hardly just acquaintances, McNally," Sam said firmly. "And for some reason the universe has decided to keep throwing us together, so unless you're planning on moving anytime soon, we're going to be in each other's lives."

Andy felt her tense muscles relax marginally at his rationalization and she shook her head. "I'm not planning on moving."

"Okay, if you're going to be in Lindsey's life, which I would like for you to be," he admitted timidly with a hand against his chest, "Then you need to know the full story so you don't walk into any more landmines like you did yesterday."

"What are you talking about?" Andy asked, her forehead wrinkling with confusion.

Sam sighed and motioned to the steps. "Can we sit down?" He asked, not waiting for her answer before tugging on her arm.

She dropped her workbag to the ground and allowed herself to be pulled down beside him. Feeling uneasy, she brought her knees up to rest her elbows against and looked over at him.

He heaved a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the effort, and cleared his throat. "Lindsey's mom was my older sister, Sarah." He paused and swiped his thumb under his nose. "When Sarah was thirteen, she was attacked by this group of guys. She got pretty messed up by it."

"Oh, Sam," Andy said, "You really don't have to tell me this…"

"It's important," Sam insisted, his voice hitching slightly. "It's important for you to understand about her."

Andy nodded slowly. "Okay."

"She went to counseling when she was a teenager but nothing really helped. She told me once that not a day went by that she didn't relive it." Sam said, his eyes trained forward. He pulled his bottom lip through his teeth and then raised an eyebrow. "When she was eighteen she found something that made her forget."

"Alcohol?" Andy guessed.

Sam nodded. "She was in and out of rehab throughout her twenties. To be honest, I didn't really think she'd ever get cleaned up," he confessed, somewhat ashamed for his lack of faith in his sister. "But then she got pregnant with Lindsey. She got clean and from the day she found out until the day she died she never touched another drop of alcohol."

"Good for her," Andy said genuinely. "I'm sure that wasn't easy."

"It wasn't," Sam said. "I was really proud of her."

They sat in silence for a moment until Andy coughed and asked, "So, what happened?"

Sam chewed on the inside of his cheek. "About a year ago Sarah and Lindsey were in a car accident." When he saw the look of concern flash across Andy's face he assured her, "They were okay, but Sarah was put on hydrocodone for back pain. At first she didn't want to take it but…" he shook his head, mad at himself, "I went to see them before I went undercover and I could tell she was in pain so I convinced her she needed it."

Without him having to say it, Andy could tell where his story was going. On instinct, she slid closer to him and placed her hand on his back, rubbing it comfortingly.

"Sarah was a nurse. When her prescription ran out she started slipping meds from the hospital. Different stuff… morphine, vicodin, Demerol, oxycodone." He looked over at her and one side of his mouth curled into a sad smile. "It's true what they say. Once an addict, always an addict. It was just a different vice."

Andy was having trouble putting her thoughts into words, so she just met Sam's gaze and held it steady, hoping to communicate with her eyes what she couldn't with her mouth.

His eyes were darker than she remembered, filled with hurt and pain and regret. As badly as she felt for Sam, her heart ached even more for his niece, for the little girl that watched her mother walk such a destructive path. She knew all to well what it was like to have an addict as a parent.

A woman walking her dog passed them on the sidewalk. The dog barked and they both looked up, away from each other, and the heaviness of the moment was broken.

Andy smiled politely at the lady and rubbed the dog's head while Sam cleared his throat and stretched his legs out in front of him, relieving some of the stiffness that had built up. He leaned back to brace his elbows on the step behind him and rolled his head from one side to the other, listening to his neck crack with a kind of sickening satisfaction.

He couldn't help but notice how Andy had instinctively moved her body in front of his, almost guarding him from conversation with the dog's owner so he could gather his thoughts while they idly chit chatted about trivial things like the weather.

Andy was perfectly nice, which he didn't find surprising in the slightest, but the smile that normally lit up her face was drawn and tight. The woman eventually moved on and Andy watched her go before turning back to Sam.

He bent his legs again and rested his forearms on his knees, clasping his hands in front of him. She studied his profile and noted the way his eyes narrowed before he continued, picking right up from when they had been interrupted. "It was ruled an accidental overdose."

Andy sucked in a sharp breath. She had been anticipating the outcome, expecting it even, but to hear him say it out loud was horrifying. "I'm so sorry, Sam."

He looked back at her and his whole demeanor hardened. "It wasn't accidental."

Andy couldn't keep the surprise off her face. "What makes you say that?"

"The hospital found out that it was her who was stealing the medicine and she got fired," Sam said. "She lost her job and her nursing license. She was lucky she wasn't arrested."

"That could just be a coincidence," Andy offered weakly.

Sam shook his head. "No, she planned it."

"What do you mean?"

"The day she died," he hesitated and then swallowed hard, making a harsh sound in the back of his throat, "Before she died, she took Lindsey out of school and they went to this really nice spa place. They got massages and got their hair done and their nails…"

"Oh my god," Andy breathed as her words from the day before came rushing back to her. She finally understood why Lindsey had broken down when she had offered to help her get ready before the dance and "make a spa day out of it."

"Yeah," Sam nodded, "Like I said, you stepped onto a landmine."

Andy dropped her head into her hands, feeling sick. "I can't believe I did that."

"You didn't know." Sam said quietly, blamelessly. There was another stretch of silence and then he told her, "Lindsey was spending the night with some friends and after Sarah dropped her off, she went home a swallowed a bunch of pills." He shook his head. "There's no way she didn't know what she was doing."

"Did Lindsey find her?"

"No, thank god," Sam said, "Her sponsor did. They were supposed to have breakfast or something." He sighed. "I was undercover, I didn't know any of this was going on until the next day after Oliver came and arrested me for possession. I was working to get one of the biggest drug lords in the city and my own sister died from an overdose." He shook his head and laughed mirthlessly. "Talk about irony."

Andy remained quiet, absentmindedly stroking her hand up and down his back, trying to process everything he was telling her.

"So that's what happened," Sam concluded. "Now you know."

She nodded slowly, stuck on one piece of missing information, "What about Lindsey's dad?"

Sam snorted. "The guy was an abusive drunk. Sarah was only with him for a couple of months before she got pregnant and he didn't hang around." He sucked his cheeks in and bit down on the inside. "A few years ago Sarah was writing her will and wanted me to get custody of Lindsey if something ever happened, but James," he paused to explain, "That's his name, still had rights. I looked into it and found that he hadn't been paying child support so I hired a lawyer to track him down and give him an ultimatum; he could either pay the seven years of child support he owed or sign away his parental rights and stay the hell away from them."

"Let me guess," Andy said, "He chose the second option."

Sam nodded. "Yeah. If he hadn't, Lindsey'd be with him now. What a nightmare that would've been." He clicked his tongue and then corrected himself, "Even more of a nightmare."

Andy turned to him and smiled. "Lindsey's lucky to have you."

"I don't know about that," he said, chuckling softly. He took a deep breath and then admitted, "I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing."

"You love her and you're doing your best. That's all you can do." Andy reassured.

"She called me a jerkface yesterday," Sam confessed. "After you left."

Andy's lips curled at the ends. "A jerkface?"

Sam grinned and quipped, "Don't ever piss of a twelve year old girl, the insults will really cut you to the bone." His expression became more serious. "She thinks you'll be mad at her."

Andy's face fell and she quickly shook her head, "I'm not mad at her at all. I never was."

"I know that, but she's just worried." He paused. "I think she likes you."

"She didn't seem very fond of me when I was there," Andy admitted. "I'm pretty sure I annoyed her."

"She did mention that you talked a lot," Sam revealed, grinning.

Andy scoffed, pretending to be insulted. "I was just trying to get to know her."

Sam shrugged. "She can be pretty guarded. Tends to use sarcasm as a defense mechanism."

"I can't imagine where she gets that from," Andy teased gently, sliding closer so she could bump her hip against his.

Sam just smirked half-heartedly and then shook his head. "She's a good kid, though."

Andy nodded. "Yeah, I can tell," she said honestly.

There was a moment of quiet, both immersed in their own thoughts.

Sam was grateful that Andy had, for once, listened without asking too many questions. She hadn't pressed for more details or tried to theorize as to why Sarah had killed herself, and she hadn't gotten overly emotional, which Sam always hated. She also didn't latch on to the brief moments of noticeable anger or sadness and try and make him talk about how he felt. She'd just let him keep going, let him share at his own pace.

He could deal with her knowing the facts. There was nothing he could do about the facts. He just wasn't sure if he was ready for her to know the emotion.

He finally spoke, breaking the silence. "I'm sorry I freaked out on you."

Andy turned and afforded him a small half smile. "It's okay. I understand."

"I shouldn't have left you there without you knowing," he continued apologizing. "It wasn't fair to you and it wasn't fair to her."

"There's no way you could have predicted what we were going to talk about," Andy told him, trying to assuage the guilt he obviously felt. "As much as you want to, you can't protect her from everything."

"Well, I'm sorry," he repeated. "I was out of line."

"I forgive you," Andy replied sincerely, resting her free hand on his arm. She paused a beat and then said, "Thank you for telling me about Sarah."

He just nodded. "I know it's a lot to dump on you…"

"No, hey," Andy replied quickly, shaking her head, "It's fine. Trust me," she said, raising an eyebrow, "I understand complicated family situations."

"I know you do," Sam said quietly, his words full of deeper meaning, of knowledge.

Andy sucked in a sharp breath. Sometimes she forgot that Sam had worked with her dad, probably knew all about his issues, and been around long enough to know about her mom.

He smiled sadly at her and there was a sense of mutual acceptance, one that was hard to understand or put into words. Andy returned a shaky smile.

He sighed then and looked down at his shoes. "Andy, I don't want you to think I told you about my sister to guilt you into helping out with Lindsey. That's not why…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "I don't want you to think I expect anything from you."

Andy couldn't help but think back to the day before, when Lindsey had been worried that Hannah's invite to the dance was out of pity. She knew that the last thing Sam Swarek wanted was her pity. "I don't think that," she assured him.

"Okay. Lindsey said you offered to help her get ready for the dance," he said quietly. "Going somewhere may not be the greatest idea, but I think she'd like it if you came over beforehand."

"Sure," Andy said, nodding. "Yeah, of course I'll come over. I'd love to."

"It's on Friday," he reminded her hesitantly, "It'd be after your shift."

"That's fine. Besides," she said, smiling, "I think I still have a couple of favors to work off."

Sam grinned. "I think we can call it even on the favors."

Her brow furrowed and she let out a disappointed huff. "So you mean I'm going to have to start taking out my own trash?"

He chuckled lightly. "I'll still do all that stuff, McNally," he said, "I just meant you don't have to do anything in return."

Andy grinned batted her eyelashes at him. "My hero," she sing-songed.

He rolled his eyes at her antics and shook his head, turning to look at something across the street.

"Hey," she said, getting his attention. He looked back at her and she told him honestly, "Even if you didn't, I'd still come over. I want to."

He swallowed and nodded his head. It was only then that it became apparent to her how close they were sitting. At some point during their conversation she had reached one arm to wrap around his back and the other hand was settled on his arm. Despite the space she had put between them when they first sat down, over time they had been drawn to one another and were pressed together from hip to knee.

Andy could feel his warmth through the material of her jeans and she found herself crowding closer, seeking his heat to ward off the early autumn chill.

He was looking at her as if he could read her thoughts. When her tongue peeked out to wet her lips, his eyes darkened and flickered down to her mouth and he pulled his own lip between his teeth.

They were close enough that had they both leaned in only a couple of inches, their lips would meet. The scent of Sam's peppermint gum mixed with his faint cologne and something else Andy couldn't quite identify, maybe fabric softener. Whatever it was, it was intoxicating and so entirely Sam. Her hand curled tighter around his bicep and she took a deep breath.

A gust of wind blew Andy's hair into her face, blocking her vision. Sam hesitated for only a second and then reached out and pushed the unruly strands back, tucking her hair securely behind her ear. She closed her eyes as his fingers traced back over her cheek, catching any stray hairs, before cupping her face in his hand.

She leaned into him by reflex and held her breath as she waited for what he was going to do next.

He dipped his head slightly to touch his forehead against hers. Her eyes flew open at the contact to find him staring at her intently.

"Do you want to come over tonight?" His husky voice was barely above a whisper and his gaze was heated. "For dinner?"

"Yes," she breathed. Delicious shivers ran through her body and she nodded before squeezing her eyes closed and pulling away with a sharp intake of air.

His hand dropped from her face and he looked at her, worried and questioning. The vulnerability of his expression made her heart hurt.

"Yes," she repeated, "I want to. But I can't." She looked down at the ground and admitted reluctantly, "I have plans."

The moment was broken and he cleared his throat before chuckling humorlessly. "Right," he said, rubbing his hand through his hair.

Andy was surprised when he didn't make a disparaging comment about what those plans entailed. "I'm sorry," she said, not entirely sure what she was apologizing for.

"It's fine," He shook his head and the walls that had come down while they were sitting on steps were built right back up. He stood to his feet. "I should probably be going anyway. Lindsey's going to be home soon."

Andy nodded, her breathing uneven. "Where is she?"

"Zoe Shaw took the girls shopping," he said, looking down at her. "Andy, listen, I'd really appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about Sarah. Especially people I work with."

Her eyebrows drew together and irritation rose in her chest that once again, he didn't seem to trust her. She tried to push the irritation aside, reminding herself that building trust, real trust, was a process that took time. "I'm not going to tell anyone." She gave him a significant look and repeated, "Anyone."

"Thanks." He looked like he was about to walk away but then he stopped himself. "Hey, did you want to have that talk?"

She blinked up at him, still coming out of her daze. "What?"

"Yesterday," he reminded her. "You wanted to talk about something."

"Oh," Andy said, remembering. She thought back to her resolve the day before, how she was going to tell Sam to stop… what? Pretending to kiss her? The whole thing sounded incredibly silly now. "No," she said, waving her hand. "It's fine."

He accepted her answer without a word. Holding his hand out to her, he helped her stand up and then bent to retrieve her bag, lifting it to her shoulder. "Okay," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and taking a step back. "I guess I'll see you later then."

She forced a smile. "See you later." She watched as he turned to walk around the wall that separated their steps. "Hey Sam," she called out.

He looked back at her immediately.

"Anytime." she said. "I mean it, anytime you need help, just let me know."

He smiled back at her, nodded once, and then quickly climbed the stairs and entered his house.

Andy sighed heavily and glanced up and down the street before making her way inside.

* * *

><p>ETA: In my real life, I'm a nurse. It's not my intention to perpetuate the stereotype that recovering addicts should not use pain medicine if it's needed for fear that they will become addicted again. I feel like it was realistic in this case, but I know that everyone has their own situations and I would never want to pass blame or guilt onto someone for doing what they needed to do. As always, if you have any questions, please PM me.<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: As always, thank you for the reviews on the last chapter. I am so thrilled with the response and, to be honest, it's pretty overwhelming. The material this story deals with is tough and I really appreciate the encouragement and support I've received. Thank you so much!

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.

* * *

><p>"So," Andy mused, wrapping a strand of dark hair around the curling iron, "Are there going to be boys at this dance?"<p>

It was Friday evening and Andy was over at the Swareks' helping Lindsey get ready for her dance. They were set up in the downstairs guest bathroom, which Lindsey had deemed to have "the best light", and Lindsey was straddling the closed toilet seat as Andy curled her hair.

Lindsey rolled her eyes. "Well I don't go to an all-girls school, so I assume there will be boys there."

Andy smiled sweetly and then tugged sharply on the curling iron, making Lindsey wince. "Watch the 'tude, lady," she warned. "I've got a very hot metal object very close to your head."

"Sorry," Lindsey replied, appropriately contrite. "Yes," she repeated herself without even a hint of sarcasm, "There will be boys there."

"Will there be any special boys there?" Andy gently prodded.

Andy saw the sides of Lindsey's cheeks flush with color but before the girl could respond, Sam appeared in the entrance of the bathroom. "There sure as hell better not be any special boys there," he said, bracing himself on either side of the doorframe.

Andy clicked her tongue behind her teeth. "Sam, language," she chided.

Lindsey let out a burst of laughter. "You should hear him when the Maple Leafs lose." She turned her head around as far as she could and informed Andy, "They suck this year, so trust me, I've heard a lot worse."

"They do not suck this year," Sam said defensively. "They just won over the Senators."

"Oh, please!" Lindsey cried. "You even said that the Senators are the worst team in the whole league."

Andy smiled and remained quiet, enjoying listening to the banter between Sam and his niece. Even as young as she was, Lindsey easily held her own against her uncle.

"It was just what the Leafs needed to get their stride back," Sam claimed. "They're going to be fine."

Lindsey pursed her lips and rolled her eyes, again. "Whatever."

"Back to this dance," Sam said, changing the topic abruptly. "There are going to be special boys there?" Andy turned to Sam and with a hand on her hip. Taking in her irritated expression, he asked innocently, "What?"

"We're having girl talk Sam," she said, gesturing between Lindsey and herself. She pointed at him. "You are not a girl."

Sam smirked and had Lindsey not been sitting there, would have responded with an inappropriate comment. As it was, he simply replied, "Just pretend I am."

Andy and Lindsey exchanged a look in the bathroom mirror and, after a silent agreement, Andy stuck her foot out, kicking the bathroom door closed. Sam jumped back so it wouldn't slam on him and once the door closed they could hear him muttering outside about it being "my own damn house". Andy caught Lindsey's eye in the mirror again and they both dissolved in a fit of giggles.

To his credit, Sam gave the girls their privacy while Lindsey finished getting ready. When she caught her breath, Andy asked her question again, "So… is there a special boy?"

Lindsey blushed and shook her head, "No, no one special."

Andy accepted the answer warily, "Okay."

Lindsey was quiet as Andy put the finishing touches on her hair. It was curled into soft ringlets and Andy pulled half of it back off her face, securing it with a jeweled barrette.

"Turn around," Andy instructed, "So I can do your makeup."

Lindsey obediently faced forward and looked at Andy curiously. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Andy smiled as she brushed the faintest trace of blush on the apples of Lindsey's cheeks. "Yes, I do. His name is Luke."

"Is he cute?"

Andy nodded, "He's very cute. Close your eyes." Lindsey obeyed and she dusted eye shadow across the girl's eyelids.

"Do you love him?" Lindsey asked, wiggling her eyebrows and grinning.

Andy laughed at how direct the girl was. She shook her head, "We haven't been dating that long yet."

"So you don't love him?" Lindsey concluded, not letting Andy get by with her non-answer.

"I could, one day," Andy said. "But no, not right now. We're still getting to know each other."

Lindsey nodded and then asked, "What does he do?"

"He works with your uncle," Andy answered. "He's a detective."

"You're a police officer too, right?" Andy nodded. "Why don't you work with them?"

"My dad used to work at their division," Andy said. She shrugged and then decided to be honest with the girl. "He made some mistakes, so I thought it would be better to go somewhere else."

"What kind of mistakes?"

Andy hesitated. "Look up," she said. Lindsey did and as Andy applied a thin coat of mascara, she chose her words carefully. "My dad is a really good dad, but he started to drink, a lot. It affected his work and he messed up some important cases because of it."

Lindsey's eyes darkened and she chewed on her bottom lip, deep in thought. "Sometimes its nice to be where no one knows about you."

Andy didn't miss the weight of her words. "Sometimes it is. But you know," she shrugged, "My friends work there. And Luke and Oliver," she paused and added, "And your uncle. They all know about my dad and don't treat me any differently. I think I was worried it would be a bigger deal than it really is."

Lindsey nodded but didn't say anything. There was a stretch of silence but Andy didn't hurry to fill it, knowing that the girl needed time to process what she had said.

She touched some gloss onto Lindsey's lips and then grinned. "Alright," she said, stepping back. "I think you're all done."

Lindsey scrambled to stand up and turned to look in the mirror. She inspected her face and hair carefully and then asked Andy shyly, "Do I look okay?"

Andy smiled and nodded. "You look great," she reassured her. She opened the bathroom door and ushered the girl out. "Now hurry and go get your dress on. Do you need help?"

"No," Lindsey called back, "I'm fine."

Sam was sitting on the sofa and he turned to watch Lindsey head up to her room. Andy cleaned up in the bathroom and then came out and leaned against the door, facing him.

"Good talk?" he asked.

Andy nodded, wondering how much of their conversation Sam had overheard. "Yeah. It was."

"You didn't make her look like a street walker, did you?"

Andy scoffed, offended. "No, I barely used any makeup at all."

"Good," Sam said, standing from the sofa. "Is she almost ready? We've got to get to the Shaw's."

Andy nodded, "She just went to put her dress on."

Sam grunted something unintelligible and walked to the front of the house. Andy followed behind him and they quietly waited for Lindsey in the foyer.

After a while, Sam noticed that Andy had a fond smile on her face. "Why are you smiling like that?" He asked suspiciously.

"Just thinking," Andy replied, still smiling to herself.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "About what?"

Andy turned to face him with an impish grin. "My first kiss. I was twelve." She shrugged, "Jacob Roberts and I snuck behind the bleachers at a school dance."

He raised his shoulders and shook his head, annoyed. "Why do you have to tell me things like that?" He groaned and dropped his shoulders. "Not only do I have to worry about her dancing with the little prepubescent punks, I have to worry about her kissing them too?"

Andy just laughed. "You asked. Don't worry though, it was all perfectly innocent."

"Nothing innocent goes on behind the bleachers," Sam countered.

"Well, I don't know what you were doing behind the bleachers," Andy said suggestively, "But Jacob didn't even try to slip me some tongue, so…" she trailed off, raising an eyebrow.

The corners of Sam's mouth pulled downward. "See, now, that's exactly the kind of thing I don't need to think about."

With an amused grin, Andy shrugged and turned around, looking expectantly up the stairs.

Sam cleared his throat. "Where's Callaghan tonight?"

She stiffened. "You know where he is."

"Believe it or not, I don't keep tabs on your boyfriend McNally."

She sighed and then admitted, "He's on surveillance for the Calhoun case."

"Oh," Sam said, feigning naiveté. "By himself?"

"No," she answered tightly, "He and Jo are working it together."

"They spend a lot of time together," Sam commented. "It's a good thing they get along."

"Well," she reminded him, "They _are_ partners."

"They sure are," he replied gamely.

Andy turned to him with fire in her eyes. "You know what?"

"What?" he challenged indifferently.

She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to the side. "Jacob Roberts did slip me some tongue. He tried to cop a feel, too."

Sam's mouth gaped open and she just smirked at him, thrilled to have rendered him speechless.

"Unnecessary," he finally muttered. "Completely unnecessary."

"So are your thinly veiled, not-so-subtle jabs at Luke," Andy retorted.

Sam raised an eyebrow, "Oh, trust me, I can be far more blunt if you'd prefer."

She was about to reply when they heard a voice at the top of the steps. "I'm ready!" Lindsey called.

Both of their heads whipped around and Andy immediately forgot what she was going to say to Sam and got her camera ready. "Okay! Come on down!"

Lindsey descended the stairs carefully, unsteady on the kitten-heeled shoes she had found to go with her dress. She wore a dark purple, knee-length dress that flared slightly at the hip. There was an intricate bead detail on the bodice that caught the light and the thick shoulder straps were flattering but age-appropriate.

Though she looked beautiful, it was her smile that Andy noticed first. Despite Lindsey's initial reservations about going to the dance, her eyes twinkled and her whole face was lit up with excitement.

Andy quickly snapped a few pictures and then, impulsively, turned to snap one of Sam as well. When she brought the camera down, she took a moment to look at him. His eyes were soft and warm and full of emotion and she could have sworn she him hastily blink back tears.

He caught her staring she just winked at him supportively before turning back to Lindsey.

"So," Lindsey said, twirling when she reached the bottom of the stairs, "What do you think?"

"You look beautiful sweetie," Andy said, going over to hug the girl. "Right, Sam?" She prompted, pulling him out of the daze he had gotten lost in.

Sam swallowed the lump that had unexpectedly risen in his throat and nodded. "Beautiful," he agreed, motioning Lindsey over to him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pressed a kiss against the top of her head. "You'll be the prettiest girl there."

Andy smiled and found herself getting choked up watching the tender moment. She took a candid picture and then instructed, "Hey you two, turn and look at me." They obeyed her and Andy was pleased to see that Sam even attempted to smile. "Okay, one… two… three…" She took the picture and then quickly checked it on the digital screen. "Perfect."

"Uncle Sam," Lindsey said, untangling herself from under his arm. "Take one of me and Andy."

Andy handed the camera over to Sam and he looked at it hesitantly. "Just push that button right there," Andy said quietly, pointing at the button on the side of the camera.

"Okay," he said, holding the camera out in front of him and squinting at the screen. "On three…"

Andy wrapped her arm around Lindsey and smiled as the flash went off.

Sam lowered the camera and said, "We better get going. We're supposed to be at the Shaw's in fifteen minutes." He looked at Lindsey, "Do you need a coat?"

"Oh hey, wait!" Andy said, hurrying to the small table in the foyer. She held up a large, black pashmina scarf, "I brought this over, I thought you might want to wear it instead of a coat."

Lindsey nodded eagerly and wrapped the material around her shoulders. "I'm ready," She said, "Let's go."

The three exited the house and Sam took a minute to lock the door behind him. Andy waited on the porch until he had finished and then, as he walked by, reached out to grab the sleeve of his shirt, holding him back. "Sam?

"Hmm?" He turned back to her.

Andy waited until Lindsey was at the bottom of the short staircase, out of hearing range, and then leaned in, quietly reassuring him, "Jacob Roberts never tried to cop a feel." She smiled and rubbed her hand down his arm. "Lindsey's going to be fine. This is good for her."

Sam nodded. "I know." He coughed, clearing his throat. "Thanks for your help tonight."

"You're welcome," she replied, looking directly into his eyes to convey her sincerity. He held her gaze and the corner of his mouth twitched with a smile.

He was about to say something but was interrupted when Lindsey called out to him impatiently. "Uncle Sam! Hurry up!" With a small half smile at Andy he turned and hurried to catch up with his niece.

Andy slowly made her way down the steps, tucking her hands under her arms for warmth. She watched as Sam helped Lindsey climb into the passenger's seat and waved goodbye as they pulled out onto the street. She stayed outside until she couldn't see the truck's taillights anymore and then, with a happy sigh, turned to walk back into her house.

It was almost a week later when Andy let out a frustrated sigh, slamming her locker door closed. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the cold metal, taking a moment to breathe and collect herself.

"McNally!" The harsh voice cut through the locker room and Andy sighed again.

"I'm coming," she called, rounding the bank of lockers.

Boyd was waiting to escort her to the staff sergeant's office where she was asked to describe her day in minute detail once again. Andy coolly explained the events leading up to the arrest and then admitted that she had made a terrible mistake and that somehow the suspect she was arresting had gotten away.

Andy hung her head as her staff sergeant reprimanded her. Compared to the acerbic tongue-lashing she had received from Boyd, the lecture was relatively tame and Andy calmly nodded along, apologizing again when he was finished.

When he dismissed them Boyd grabbed a hold of her arm, his fingers digging into her flesh, and hauled her out of the office, muttering disparagingly as they walked. She waited until they turned into an empty hallway and then wrenched her arm away from him. "Let go of me," she said firmly.

"You better get your shit together McNally," he said, pointing a finger in her face. His voice was low and almost sinister. "Come back tomorrow with your head in the game or you will be at the desk for the next month. Do you understand me?"

She set her jaw, willing herself not to cry, and nodded, "Yes sir."

With a final sneer, Boyd stomped off. Andy exhaled heavily and raised her arm, inspecting the bruise that was already starting to form from where he had grabbed her. She shook her head and then walked back to the locker room, more than ready to head home for the day.

Later that same night, Sam stood at the bottom of the stairs and yelled up, "Lindsey!"

A few seconds later he heard her reply, "Yes?"

"Come down here please. Dinner's almost ready."

"I'm coming!"

Sam walked back into the kitchen to finish getting the dinner together and it wasn't long before Lindsey came bounding down the steps and skidded to a stop at the kitchen's entrance.

"Mmm… " she said, jumping up onto one of the stools to sit at the counter, "It smells good."

Sam dramatically clutched at his chest, feigning shock. "Did you just compliment my cooking?"

Lindsey just rolled her eyes and reached out to steal a piece of bacon.

"Uh uh, not yet," he said, slapping her hand away. "I was thinking we should invite Andy over for dinner, what do you think?"

Lindsey thought it over. "Do you think she would come?"

Sam shrugged, "Can't hurt to ask. Go get her," he instructed. At Lindsey's hesitant expression he continued, "Tell her if she keeps eating pizza she's going to get too fat to chase down bad guys."

"You know," Lindsey advised, hopping down off of the stool, "You really should be nicer to her."

Sam eyed his niece. "I am nice to her," he claimed.

Lindsey shook her head. "You could be nicer. She's never gonna date you if you say mean things like that."

Sam coughed, taken by surprise. "Who says I want to date her?"

"Please," Lindsey said. "It's only like, completely obvious."

"Well then, you are obviously mistaken," Sam retorted, "Because I don't want to date her."

"Oh whatever," Lindsey replied, rolling her eyes.

"Hey," he pointed a spatula at her, "Don't be a smartass."

"Andy wouldn't like it if she knew you used that kind of language around me." She smirked and with mock seriousness informed him, "I'm an impressionable child you know."

"Ever heard the expression, 'children should be seen and not heard,'" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lindsey just glared at him, silent.

"Ah," Sam said, cupping his hand around his ear, "That's so much better." He waved the spatula towards the front door, "Now go get Andy."

"How I am I supposed to do that if I'm silent?" Lindsey asked, mumbling as she walked out of the kitchen. "I guess I'll have to learn sign language on the way over there."

She quickly made her way over to Andy's and knocked on the front door. She only had to wait a minute, maybe less, until Andy threw the door open, cash in hand.

"Oh, hi Lindsey," Andy said, pushing her hair out of her face. "Sorry I was expecting…"

"The delivery guy?" Lindsey guessed.

"Yep," Andy said, smiling sheepishly. "How'd you know?"

"They've accidentally come to our house twice this week," Lindsey explained.

"Sorry about that." Andy leaned against the doorframe. "Hey, how was the dance? I haven't gotten a chance to ask you about it yet."

"It was really fun," Lindsey said with a small smile.

"Great! Oh, I'm so glad," Andy said, genuinely happy for the girl. "And you had a good time with Hannah and her friends?"

Lindsey nodded. "Yeah. She invited me over a sleepover next weekend."

"That'll be fun. So..." she grinned and wiggled her eyebrows up and down, "Did you dance with any boys?"

"Maybe," Lindsey answered shyly, drawing the word out.

Andy noticed the blush that rose to Lindsey's cheeks and she let the poor girl off the hook, knowing she was probably embarrassed about the whole thing. "So," she said, "What's up?"

Lindsey took a deep breath. "My uncle wanted me to invite you over for dinner."

"Oh," Andy's forehead wrinkled, "Well, tell him thank you but I already ordered pizza…"

"He also said to tell you that if you keep eating pizza you're going to get too fat to chase down bad guys."

"Wow." Andy's eyebrows shot up and she blinked. "He said that, did he?"

Lindsey nodded, her lips twitching with a grin.

Andy huffed and then shook her head, "He's really a charmer, isn't he?"

The grin spread fully across Lindsey's face and she shrugged. "He thinks he is."

They were interrupted when the pizza delivery guy skipped up the steps to Andy's house. Andy paid him, telling him to keep the change, and took the pizza box from his outstretched hands.

"Lindsey," she said when he left, "I'm sorry but…"

"Please come over," Lindsey interrupted her quickly. She looked startled by her own outburst but then smiled hopefully at Andy. "If you come over maybe we can convince him to watch something other than sports or the news."

Andy sighed thoughtfully. Luke had been working late almost every night that week and the last thing she'd wanted to do when she got home was cook for one. Truth be told, she _was_ getting tired of pizza. "What are we having?"

"Some kind of pasta something or other," Lindsey answered vaguely. "I'm not really sure."

"Is he a good cook?"

"He's not bad," Lindsey admitted honestly. "And there's bacon."

Andy was silent for a moment, considering her options. She looked down at the pizza box in her hands and then back to Lindsey. "Well, I can't say no to bacon," she declared with a smile. "Let me just go put this in the refrigerator and grab a sweatshirt."

Lindsey grinned and waited for Andy to lock up her house, and then the two made their way back over to Lindsey's. By the time they got there, Sam had already plated the pasta carbonara and they all headed into the living room to eat. With Andy's assistance, Lindsey was able to convince her uncle to relinquish control of the remote. When Lindsey settled on a celebrity gossip show, Sam frowned and sank back into the couch cushions, grumbling unhappily about the trash they allowed TV.

Andy could tell that, despite his multiple protests, he really didn't mind as long as Lindsey was happy.

She smiled to herself as she ate her dinner, once again enjoying the warm atmosphere of Sam's home. She knew that beneath the surface there was incredible hurt and pain, but she admired the effort Sam was putting into making a good, comfortable home for Lindsey.

When he finished, Sam got up from the sofa and headed into the kitchen. Andy quickly ate the last couple of bites of her meal and then followed him, finding him standing at the sink. "Thanks for dinner," Andy said, setting her plate on the counter. "It was really good."

"Well you know, it's easy to impress when my only competition comes from a cardboard box," Sam teased. When he noticed that she didn't seem amused, he softened. "You're welcome."

Andy glanced uneasily around the kitchen. "You want some help cleaning up?"

Sam shrugged. "Only if you want."

"It's the least I can do," Andy insisted. "Put me to work."

Sam held up a dirty plate. "I'll wash," he said, "You rinse."

"I can do that," Andy replied, taking her spot next to him at the sink.

They worked quietly and efficiently for a few minutes before Sam couldn't take it anymore and asked, trying to sound nonchalant, "Callaghan busy lately?"

Andy smiled slightly and shook her head. "I knew you wouldn't last all night without saying something."

Sam raised his soapy hands innocently. "Just making conversation, McNally."

"He's still working on the Calhoun case," Andy told him. "It's been a lot of late nights but I think it's almost over."

Sam "hmmed" and then handed her a plate. She had been unusually quiet that night so he prodded further. "How was your day?" She eyed him warily and he reminded her, "Just making conversation."

Andy sighed, thinking of how truly disastrous her day had been. "It was…" She paused and then ground out, "Fine."

Sam caught the slight hitch in her voice. "Fine?" He questioned, knowing there was more to the story. "Anyone ever tell you that you're a terrible liar?"

She winced. "Okay," she admitted, "It was horrible."

"What happened?" Sam asked, chuckling lightly.

"I got chewed out by my training officer and my staff sergeant," she said, biting her bottom lip. She was surprised when she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. Blinking rapidly to keep them at bay, she acknowledged, "I really screwed up though, it was my fault."

Sam hesitated but then carefully asked, "What'd you do?"

She looked at him uncertainly. The last she wanted was for someone else to think she was an idiot. "I don't know, Sam…"

"I promise, it cannot be any worse than some of the things Epstein's done," he assured her with a genuine smile.

Andy exhaled heavily, but then confessed, "A suspect got away from me while I was arresting him." She pursed her lips and continued, "We lost him somewhere on Bleeker."

Sam raised his eyebrows, "Wow. That is bad."

She groaned and dropped her head, "I know."

"Where was your TO?"

Andy looked up at him, "What do you mean?"

"Where was your TO? He should have been backing you up."

"He was in the car," Andy admitted. "By the time he got there the guy was already gone."

"Huh," Sam said, his brow furrowing. "Well did he go over with you what you did wrong?"

"Oh yeah," Andy replied, nodding. "He was very thorough in his assessment of my ineptitude."

Sam shook his head. "That's not what I meant. I mean did he go over the arrest with you to see why the guy got away?"

"You mean, like, reenacting it?" Andy asked skeptically.

"Yeah, did he show you what you did wrong so it doesn't happen again?"

"No," Andy said, snorting disbelievingly. The idea of Boyd actually imparting helpful, tangible knowledge was laughable. "He didn't do that."

Sam sighed and grit his teeth. He set the rest of the dirty dishes in the sink and then turned to Andy. "Alright, we'll go over it now."

"Oh, no, Sam…" Andy said, shaking her head. "That's not necessary…"

"Andy, it's bad for the city of Toronto to have police officers running around who don't know how to arrest people." He didn't mean it offensively, be she scoffed and clicked her tongue behind her teeth. "Now, your training officer should be the one doing the, you know, _training_, but apparently he's not doing his job. Lucky for you, you live next door to me and I happen to be very good at my job." Not backing down, he took the plate out of her hand and firmly said, "Let me help you."

Andy studied him for a moment, gauging his sincerity, and then reluctantly accepted with a shaky, "Okay."

"Okay," he nodded decisively. "Tell me what happened."

Andy sighed and leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "We got a call about a B&E down on Carlton street. When we got there, the owner of the apartment came rushing out of the building, pointing at a man and yelling that he was the one that robbed her. I got out of the car to pursue on foot and my TO drove around to block off an alley."

Sam nodded, following along.

"I caught up with the guy, tackled him and was getting my handcuffs out to arrest him when he pushed me off of him and ran away."

"So it was something about the way you had him pinned," Sam concluded.

"He was a pretty big guy," Andy said defensively, "Probably two hundred pounds, at least. He just got away from me."

"His weight doesn't matter," Sam said, shaking his head, "You should be able to keep him down." He thought for a moment and then motioned her to follow him. "Come on," he said, walking into the living room.

When he began moving furniture out of the way, Lindsey looked up from the book she was reading and glanced over at Andy curiously. Andy just shrugged in response and asked Sam, "What're you doing?"

"Well," he said, pushing the coffee table to one side of the room, "You're going to show me what you did."

Lindsey perked up. "Do I need to move?" she asked from her position on the couch.

"Nope, you're fine there," Sam replied, waving his hand. To Andy, he instructed, "Okay, arrest me."

Andy raised an eyebrow. "You want _me_ to arrest _you_?"

Sam looked around the room exaggeratedly. "Is there an echo in here?" His eyes met hers and he asked seriously, "How am I supposed to know what you're doing wrong if you don't show me?"

"I'm not going to arrest you," Andy replied resolutely.

"Why not?" He questioned, walking over to her.

"Because…" Andy said, shaking her head uncomfortably. "I'm just not."

He came to stand in front of her. He eyed her carefully and then reached out, swatting her on the arm.

Andy looked up at him, surprised. "What was that for?"

He did it again. "I just assaulted a police officer," he answered. "You have to arrest me now."

"Okay," Andy said, holding her hands out, "I am not going to arrest you."

"Come on Andy," he persisted. "Everyone makes mistakes, you've just got to learn from them."

He reached out to swat her again, but she caught his arm. "Fine," she agreed with a heavy sigh, releasing him to step back and remove her sweatshirt. "I'll arrest you."

Sam grinned. "Should I be running?" he asked.

"Only if you want it to be realistic," she replied, fixing him with a look.

"Alright," Sam said, guiding her back to the entrance of the living room. "Here we go."

Lindsey let her book fall to her lap, looking on as Sam pretended to run from Andy and Andy tackled him from behind, dropping him right in the middle of the living room.

It was far more entertaining than seventh grade required reading.

Sam fell to the floor with a pained grunt. "Good takedown," he sputtered. "That's obviously not the issue."

"Thank you," Andy said smugly, pulling his arms behind him to pin him.

"Well there's your first problem," he said, looking back behind him and slapping at her arm. "You've got spaghetti arms. You have to keep your arms strong. Second, you have to use your knees to keep me down. See, look," he easily tossed her to the side and stood to his feet. "You're like a feather. Let me show you, get down."

Andy eyed him warily but obediently got facedown on the ground. He dropped to his knees and pulled her arms behind her back. "One knee goes here," he said, pressing one knee onto the top of her back, "And the other goes here," he pressed his other knee into the small of her back.

"Sam," she wheezed, "I can't breathe."

He quickly moved off of her but said, "That's the point. If you can't breathe you can't struggle. Let's go again. Try not to crush the family jewels this time though," he said, standing up. "You never know, some lucky lady may want to help me give Lindsey some cousins one day."

Andy laughed lightly as she pushed herself up, rolling her eyes, while Lindsey's face scrunched up in disgust. "Gross!" she cried, horrified.

Sam just laughed at his niece and then turned his back to Andy. "Try again."

She tackled and pinned him again and again, and each time he would easily slip from her grasp. She listened to his instruction though and eventually was able to secure him to the ground. Sam struggled in her hold but when he couldn't free himself, he relented and relaxed onto the floor. "You got me," he admitted, proud of her.

"Aha, yes!" Andy exclaimed, jokingly pumping her arms in the air, laughing in triumph.

The movement caused her shirtsleeves to ride up and when she brought her arms back down, she noticed that Sam was staring at something intently. She followed his gaze to the harsh purple bruise that marred her upper arm, the perfect outline of a large hand.

He looked at up her, eyebrows raised with alarm, and she could read the assumption in his eyes.

Pulling her sleeve down, she thought quickly. "Hey Lindsey," she said, scrambling to stand, "Could I get that scarf I loaned you last week back?"

Lindsey looked at her suspiciously but agreed, getting up from the couch to go retrieve the item from her room.

Andy waited until she left the room and then turned back to Sam. She could practically feel the intensity radiating off of him and knew he was struggling not to immediately jump to conclusions. His jaw was tight and he was standing with his hands on his hips, one foot slightly in front of the other, waiting for her to explain. "It's not what you're thinking," she promised, holding up her hands.

He didn't respond. Instead, one of his hands went to circle her wrist and the other tugged her shirtsleeve up again so he could inspect the bruise more closely. Andy sighed and half-heartedly tried to pull her arm away, but he wouldn't let her. "Did Callaghan do that?" He asked, his voice steady and controlled.

"No, he didn't," she said, shaking her head, pleading with him to believe her. "I promise, it wasn't him."

Sam took a long, controlled breath. "What happened?"

"It was an accident," Andy tried to tell him.

He cut her off. "People don't accidently grab you hard enough to leave a bruise like that, Andy. Was it someone you were arresting?"

She wanted to nod her head, to lie to him and tell him that it was someone off the street, someone she didn't know. It was probably what she should have done, but the look in his eye warned her not to lie to him.

"No," she admitted truthfully. "It wasn't."

"Who was it?"

"Sam," She said, pulling her arm away. This time he let her. "Can you just not make a big deal about it please?"

"It is a big deal McNally," he stubbornly protested, his volume rising.

"Keep your voice down," she implored him, looking nervously towards the stairs.

He stared at her for a long moment, clenching his fists unknowingly. "Who was it? I'm going to find out eventually and it'd be easier if you would just tell me."

She sighed heavily and looked down at the ground. Irritation prickled up her spine at his audacity, at his arrogant presumption that he was somehow entitled to know what happened and that she should just tell him. She didn't owe him anything. She could feel her hair stand on end and was about to tell him exactly where he could shove his assumptions but then she looked up at saw him standing there and remembered everything he had shared with her, everything he had trusted her with.

Surely she could trust him with this little piece of information.

If she was honest with herself, she wanted to tell him.

"Andy. Tell me."

She sighed again, weighing her decision. "It was my training officer, okay?" she replied quietly. "He just pulled my arm a little too hard. It was an accident."

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Who is your training officer?"

Andy was shaking her head, getting ready to tell him she wasn't going to answer that, when they were interrupted.

"Here you go," Lindsey said, holding the scarf out as she walked back into the living room. She looked back and forth between Andy and her uncle, sensing that something was amiss. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Andy replied a little too easily, taking the scarf from her. "I need to be going though." She quickly hugged Lindsey and then looked back over to Sam. "Thank you for dinner." She smiled shakily, hoping he would just let her leave. "And the lesson."

He clenched his jaw, wanting to ask more questions, but resisted and just nodded sharply. There were plenty of ways he could find out who her training officer was, he didn't need her to tell him. "You're welcome. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she repeated, "Goodnight Lindsey."

Lindsey returned the farewell and watched as Andy made her exit. She turned back to her uncle and narrowed her eyes accusingly. "What did you do this time?"

* * *

><p>AN: Does anyone else miss Oliver? I do! Expect an appearance from him in the next chapter!<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: I hope that you all know how grateful I am for your reviews. Every single one of them is much appreciated!

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Sam sat at one of the tables in the parade room, waiting for Best to begin his daily report.<p>

Detective Jo Rosati sat next to him but he had even less use for her than he did her partner and he was fairly certain she felt the same way about him, so after a perfunctory "Good Morning" they had both gone back to ignoring the other. Jo ducked her head and played on her phone, furiously scrolling through emails, while Sam sat with his arms crossed, slowly scratching the underside of his jaw, quietly pondering the information he had gathered earlier that morning.

It had been easier than he expected to find out who Andy's training officer was. He'd entered the locker room to find Diaz and Epstein chatting amiably while they got ready for the day.

Coming up behind them, he folded his arms in front of his chest and narrowed his eyes. When he coughed to get their attention, they both jumped and spun around, almost falling against the lockers in their haste.

He could have sworn it looked Epstein almost saluted him.

It would have been amusing if there weren't more pressing issues at hand. He motioned between the two of them and asked, "Either of you know who McNally's training officer is?"

They looked at each other and then Epstein cleared his throat and nodded. "Yes sir."

Sam waited a second and when Epstein didn't offer any more information he shook his head slightly. "Well?" He prompted. "Who is it?"

"Donovan Boyd, sir," Diaz answered.

Sam leaned forward, hoping he hadn't heard correctly. "Boyd?"

"Yes, sir," Diaz confirmed.

"Donovan Boyd?" He repeated once again for clarification.

Epstein nodded.

"Huh," Sam grunted. Trying to conceal his own less than genial feelings towards the man, he jutted his chin out and asked, "He pretty hard on her?"

Again the two looked at each other and Sam could practically see them carrying on a conversation with their eyes. "Hey," he said, stomping his foot on the ground, "What's going on?"

Dov turned back to him. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Sam almost rolled his eyes, but stopped himself. "Sure," he replied, waving his hand, "Whatever."

Dov glanced at Chris and then lowered his voice, "We've been trying to get her to complain about him for a while."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"He's a bully," Chris blurted out, quickly adding, "Sir. He yells at her all the time, he calls her names, he writes her up for every little thing, he even…" he broke off, hesitating.

"He even what, Diaz?" Sam prompted.

"He says inappropriate things to her," Chris told him, "Really inappropriate things."

"Like what?"

"Well, I don't know how well you know Andy, but she can be a kind of a talker. She asks a lot of questions."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, so?"

"When they first started riding together," he paused, "Boyd told her that the only reason her mouth should be open around him was if she was doing something other than talking."

Sam's eyebrows shot up and he blinked rapidly, genuinely stunned.

When he didn't say anything in response, Chris tried to explain, "You know… something _other _than talking… that involves a girl's mouth being open…" he gave Sam a significant look.

Sam held his hand up to get Chris to stop. "Yeah, I know what he was talking about." He took a breath. "She told you he said that?"

Dov shook his head, "She told Traci one night. We all kinda compared notes one day."

"Okay, so, why hasn't she complained?"

Dov shrugged, "She thinks it's just rookie initiation stuff and that she should just deal with it. She doesn't want to get anyone in trouble."

Sam nodded slowly, contemplatively. "Okay," he said. "Thanks." He started to turn to leave but noticed they were both still standing ramrod straight with their arms by their sides. "At ease, gentlemen."

As he sat waiting for parade, Sam ran the conversation through his head, trying to piece together what Diaz and Epstein had told him and what little he knew from Andy. He remembered the occasional mention of a rough day at work and how, on the day he told her about Sarah, she'd at first asked him to come back later if he was going to yell at her. He hadn't given it a second thought then, and honestly hadn't really thought about it since, but when added to the growing pile of evidence against Boyd, it was concerning.

Sam was pulled from his thoughts when a sharp, wet, warm object was jabbed into his ear and wiggled around. He swatted at the intrusion and turned in his chair to see Oliver pulling his finger back, grinning.

"Good morning brother," Oliver greeted cheerfully, taking the seat at the end of the table. When Sam just grunted in response he joked, "What's got your panties in a bunch?"

"Don't say panties," Jo piped up, still absorbed in something on her phone.

Both men looked at her and then back looked at each other. Sam just shook his head, disregarding the blonde woman's interruption.

"Guess who…" Sam hesitated, not entirely comfortable with Rosati overhearing his conversation about Andy, "My neighbor's training officer is?"

Oliver perked up but before he could respond, a decidedly female voice spoke. "I know Andy McNally is your neighbor," Jo said, still not looking over at them. "You don't have to try and be cryptic."

"Do you always interrupt people's private conversations?" Sam grumbled, scowling at the woman. "Or are we just especially lucky this morning?"

Jo glanced up from her phone. "I'm sorry," she said disingenuously, "I didn't realize the parade room was the place for private conversations."

Sam regarded her silently for a moment and then turned back to Oliver, amending his question, "Guess who McNally's training officer is?"

"Who?"

Sam looked at him pointedly and then revealed, "Donovan Boyd."

Oliver's face fell. "No," he said disbelievingly. Sam nodded sharply in affirmation.

"Why is that a bad thing?" Jo asked, her phone beeping with a new text message. She opened the message and read it, commenting, "Boyd's a solid police officer."

Sam groaned but resigned himself to the fact that the tiny blonde was going to push her way into the conversation regardless of how obvious he made it that she was not invited.

"Solid?" He repeated, turning to face her with an incredulous expression.

"His methods may be a little…" she tilted her head from side to side, searching for the right word, "Unconventional, but he's good. Tough, no nonsense. Besides, McNally could use someone who's not going to coddle her."

"Well," Sam said, leaning back in his chair, "There's a distinct difference between coddling and training and from what I've heard, neither is going on."

"What?" Jo asked, smirking. "Is McNally complaining to you about her big, bad training officer?"

Sam ran his tongue over his top teeth, making a harsh sucking noise, before replying, "As a matter of fact, she isn't."

Oliver cut into the conversation, asking, "How'd you find out?"

Sam gave a quick, almost infinitesimal shake of his head. There was no way he was going to tell Oliver about the bruise he had seen in front of Rosati. "Doesn't matter," he said while eyeing Oliver, trying to communicate that he'd tell him later. He turned back to Rosati. "Callaghan isn't at all concerned that Boyd is his girlfriend's TO?"

"Why would he be concerned?" she asked, as if the very thought were absurd.

"Boyd's track record of keeping the people he's responsible for safe is, quite frankly, shameful," Oliver answered.

"If you're talking about the Jamie Brennan case, I think you've got your details wrong," Jo said immediately, knowing what he was referring to.

Oliver and Sam exchanged a puzzled look and then Sam turned to Jo. "Yeah? What do you know about Jamie Brennan?"

She shrugged. "Callaghan and I were still working out of headquarters at the time, but we got the gist of the story."

"Oh yeah? And what's the gist of the story?" Oliver asked, settling his forearms against the table and leaning in, interested in what the woman was going to say.

"It was Boyd's first big case as the handler, his UC guy screwed his cover and got himself made and roughed up a little bit," she acknowledged, raising one shoulder and then letting it drop. "Boyd had to take the fall."

"Roughed up a bit, huh?" Sam asked, feigning ignorance. "I heard it was a little more serious than that."

"Compared to Brennan's other vics, I'd guess the guy got off pretty easily."

Oliver went to say something, but Sam put his hand out, stopping him. "Do you know who the undercover guy was?"

Jo pursed her lips and shook her head, "No. Just some dumbass loser who couldn't keep it together." Oliver unsuccessfully tried to keep a grin off of his face and when Sam kicked him under the table he stifled a groan. Jo arched an eyebrow at the interruption but continued, "Apparently he had friends in high places, because from what I heard, he didn't even get a slap on the wrist while Boyd got suspended from Guns and Gangs."

Sam pretended to think over the information she had given them. "And you're certain it wasn't Boyd's fault?"

"No way," Jo said. "I went through the academy with the guy. He's definitely a hardass, but he's a great cop."

"Interesting," Oliver mused. He looked back at Sam and admitted, "That's not the way I remember it going down at all."

"Well, no offense to you guys, but my sources probably have a little higher clearance than you do."

Oliver sucked in his cheeks. "Right, right, right," he said quickly before chewing on his bottom lip. "Because you're a detective and we're just lowly beat cops."

"Hey, that's not…" Jo held up her hand, trying to backtrack, but Oliver cut her off.

"No, no, that's understandable. Hey Jerry," Oliver called out to the detective who had just entered the parade room, "C'mere for a second, would you?"

Jerry said something to the uniformed officer he had been talking to and then made his way over to the group. "What's up? He asked, coming to stand In front of their table.

"You're a detective," Oliver stated, "Right?"

In her seat, Jo just rolled her eyes.

Jerry nodded, looking slightly confused. "Right."

"Good, maybe you can clear something up for us. You remember Jamie Brennan?"

Jerry's forehead wrinkled. "Yeah, of course I do."

"Do you remember who the arresting officer was?" Oliver asked seriously.

Jerry pushed the sides of his suit jacket back and brought his hands to rest his narrow hips. He stared at his two friends for a moment, his jaw slack to one side, before asking, "Is this some kind of joke?"

"No joke," Sam assured him. "We were just having a little disagreement with Detective Rosati here and we were hoping you could help sort things out."

"Oh," Jerry said, finally recognizing what was going on. "Well, if I recall correctly, the arresting officer was you, Shaw."

Oliver snapped his fingers together. "You know what? You are absolutely correct. I _was _the arresting officer. Man, it was just so long ago…" he broke off, shaking his head.

Jo looked between the three men. Her previously haughty expression turned uncomfortable as realization dawned. "Jamie Brennan was arrested by police officers at fifteen," she said slowly, remembering. "Because the undercover officer was one of your guys."

Sam nodded, grinning humorlessly. "Hi," he stuck out his hand, "I'm the dumbass loser who couldn't keep it together. Nice to meet you."

She ignored his outstretched hand and smiled tightly, trying to save face. "I was never told the real name of the undercover officer."

"Guess your sources weren't that informative," Sam supposed out loud.

"I've got to go," Jerry said, watching as Traci Nash entered the room. "We clear here?"

"Yeah, I think we're clear," Oliver said. "Thanks."

"Anytime," Jerry replied before making his way over to the rookie.

Jo hitched her thumb behind her shoulder. "I need to go talk to Callaghan," she said, standing up, "We've, uh, got some stuff to go over."

"Yeah, you should do that," Sam agreed with mock sincerity. "You wouldn't want to get your facts messed up."

Jo shot him a dirty look, but turned on her heel and stomped away, muttering, "Assholes," under her breath.

Sam watched her go and then turned back to Oliver. "That was actually kind of fun."

"It was like watching a train wreck," Oliver agreed. "A well-deserved train wreck with only one annoying casualty." He shook his head but then his expression became serious. "So, he's McNally's training officer?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"And I'm guessing there's a problem?"

Sam lowered his voice, "Last night, she came over for dinner." Oliver raised an eyebrow suggestively and Sam quickly cut him off, "Don't look at me like that, I get enough of that crap from Lindsey."

"Well, Lindsey's very perceptive," Oliver claimed. "It's something we have in common."

"She's also a twelve year old girl," Sam shot back. "Wanna keep drawing the comparisons?"

"See now, that's just rude."

Sam ignored him and went back to what he had been saying, "She came over for dinner last night and she had this bruise on her arm, like someone had grabbed her, like this," he said, demonstrating on Oliver. "At first she didn't want to talk about it but I finally get her to admit it was her TO. She wouldn't even tell me it was Boyd, I had to find that out on my own."

Oliver looked alarmed. "Did she say what happened?"

Sam shook his head. "Just that it was an accident, that he pulled her arm a little too hard. But then this morning I talked to Epstein and Diaz and they said she's been having all kinds of problems with him. If what they said is true… it's pretty serious."

"Well, you need to get her to file a complaint," Oliver advised.

Sam scoffed, "What good is that going to do? You and I both know what'll happen- they'll look into it, it'll be his word against hers, and since he's the superior officer nothing with change."

"Sammy, I know that right now, you're sitting here wondering how quickly you can make it over to twenty seven and beat the crap out of the guy," Oliver guessed, "But you can't do that."

"Boyd is dangerous," Sam asserted, his voice low. "The last thing Lindsey needs is for something to happen to someone that she's just getting comfortable around …"

Oliver cut him off. "The last thing Lindsey needs or the last thing you need?"

Sam sucked in a breath and stared at his friend. A moment passed and the question weighed heavy between them. "That's not… " He paused to clear his throat, "That's not even what it's about."

"Look, Sam, I get it. She's nice and she helps you out with Lindsey and she's pretty easy on the eyes," He shrugged, "It's only natural that you'd start to care about her."

"Okay, it's not that I care about her," Sam replied defensively, "It's that what's going on is wrong, and someone needs to put a stop to it."

"Well, you can't be that person buddy, not with your history with the guy. She's got to do it. And you cannot, let me be clear, you _cannot _take matters in your own hands."

Sam bit down on the inside of his cheek, knowing Oliver was right. "Yeah, okay," he reluctantly agreed.

Best walked up to the podium to begin parade, effectively ending their conversation. Oliver gave Sam a final pointed look with unmistakable meaning and then turned his attention to the front of the room.

Later that afternoon, Andy hurried to her front door when she heard someone frantically knocking. Opening it, she found a very distraught Sam standing on her porch. Anxiety was rolling of him like waves and she was immediately concerned. "Sam," she said, "What's wrong?"

"Well McNally, my niece has locked herself in the bathroom," Sam replied, pointing back to his house.

Andy stepped out onto her porch and pulled her sweater tightly around her. "Did she say why? Is she okay?"

"I don't know," Sam said, shaking his head. He began pacing and explained, "She came home from school, stomped upstairs yelling something about God being a man and slammed the bathroom door."

"Oh," Andy said, nodding in understanding.

"Oh," he repeated, "What do you mean 'oh'?"

"What do you mean, what do I mean?" Andy asked, confused. It was then that she realized Sam had no idea what was going on. "Okay Sam… hey, Sam," she grabbed hold of his arm, stilling his movements. "Take a breath."

Sam obeyed her instruction, inhaling deeply. "Can you just come over? She asked me to get you."

"Yeah, sure," Andy said, reaching behind her to close the door. She guided Sam back to his house and then told him to wait in the living room while she went to check on Lindsey. Several minutes later she came back downstairs

"Is she okay?" Sam asked, getting to his feet.

"Yeah, she's gonna be fine," Andy assured him. "Listen, can I borrow your truck? I need to run get her some things and it's kind of a time sensitive matter."

Sam looked at her dubiously. "You want to borrow my truck?"

"I'm not asking for one of your kidneys, Sam," Andy said, rolling her eyes. "Just your truck."

He shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Fine," Andy agreed, setting her jaw. "Do _you_ want to go buy your niece some tampons?"

Sam's eyes widened almost comically. "Oh," he said, "OH."

Andy nodded. "Yeah."

"She's too young for that," Sam stated, looking uncertain. "Isn't she?"

"No," Andy said, shaking her head. "She's really not." She held out her hand. "Now, keys please."

Without argument, Sam fished the keys out of his pocket and threw them to her.

Andy caught them easily. She started to walk away but then thought of something. "Look," she said, turning back to him, "Just leave her alone until I get back, okay? She's embarrassed."

"Okay," he agreed. "Hey, wait a second." He pulled his wallet out and took out his credit card, handing it over to her. "Stock up, would you?"

Andy chuckled as she took the card from him. "I can do that," she promised.

She was gone for less than thirty minutes and when she returned, Sam met her at the front door. She was loaded down with bags and nodded back towards the truck. "There's more out there. And you can check to make sure everything is in one piece," she told him, winking.

He brought the rest of the bags in for her, grumbling when he reached the kitchen, "When I said stock up I meant on hygiene products, not on potato chips and chocolate."

"I didn't just get potato chips and chocolate," Andy argued.

"What is all this?" he asked, poking through the bags. "Midol? Andy, I have Advil."

"It's not the same. And that's a heating pad," she said, pointing to the object he was holding. "Look, I just assumed you wouldn't have any of this stuff, so I got whatever I could think of."

"I appreciate that, but really," he held up a giant Hershey's bar, "could this be any more of a cliché?"

"Well, it's a cliché for a reason Sam," Andy explained. She opened the pantry door and looked inside, "Trust me, she's going to want to have something to eat other than… " she pulled out a box of crackers, "What is this? Rye crisps? That sounds disgusting." She replaced the box, shaking her head. "Nothing beats a bag of Ruffles followed by a KitKat when you're PMSing."

"Well, I'll just have to take your word on that one." Sam leaned back against the counter, watching her efficiently move around his kitchen, unloading the groceries she had purchased. Restless and needing something to do, he started pulling stuff out of the bags. "I thought you said you were buying tampons," he said, holding a package of pads up in the air.

She glanced back at him. "I wasn't sure what she'd be more comfortable with."

He turned the package over in his hands and read the description. "What the hell is a flexi-wing?"

Andy chuckled and turned to face him. "Really Sam, you're acting like you've never been in a relationship before." Her eyes widened and she grinned, teasing, "Oh my god, are you a forty year old virgin?"

He set the pads down on the counter and turned to her, asking seriously, "You think I'm forty?"

"That's the part you object to, really? Not the virgin part?"

"Obviously I'm not a virgin McNally. I mean," he gestured to himself, "Look at me."

Andy looked him up and down. "What am I'm supposed to be seeing?" She asked blankly. When he smirked she just grinned back. "I'm kidding. Look, try not to act freaked out by this, okay? It'll just make things even more awkward."

"I'm not freaked out," he claimed. She shot him a skeptical look and he insisted, "I'm not. I just wish she would have told me what was going on."

Andy sighed, realizing that he took it as some kind of personal failure that Lindsey hadn't confided in him. "Sam, when I was her age, I stole pads from the nurse's supply closet at school for months so that I wouldn't have to tell my dad. The only reason I finally did tell him was because I got caught and had to explain why I had Saturday detention." She smiled reassuringly, "It's not you. It's men in general. No matter how uncomfortable you are with this whole thing, Lindsey's about a hundred times more uncomfortable. She's twelve and despite how mature she seems, it's just embarrassing."

Sam exhaled heavily and dropped his head. "I know. I just wish…" he trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Her mom was here?" Andy finished.

He looked up at her and she didn't miss the anger that flashed through his eyes. She held his gaze steady though and after a second he nodded.

"No offense to you," Andy said carefully, "But I'm sure Lindsey does too. I know I wanted my mom." She shrugged and smiled sadly, "There's nothing you can do about it though. And you can't beat yourself up for not being her mom."

There was a stretch of silence, heavy and tense, and then Sam coughed to clear his throat. "How'd you get so wise?" He joked, lightening the mood.

"Just comes naturally," she replied with false modesty, brushing her knuckles against her shirt. She shook her head and took a deep breath, "You're just lucky I moved in next door when I did."

She was teasing him, but Sam knew there was truth in what she said. He thought back to the conversations he'd had earlier that day, and Oliver's words rang in his ears_. _

"Yeah," Sam said. "Listen, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

"What's that?" Andy asked innocently, leaning against the counter next to him. Her expression was relaxed and bright and for a second he debated with himself, knowing she was more than likely going to get upset with him.

"I know who your training officer is," he said. "Donovan Boyd."

As he'd expected, she stiffened and folded her arms in front of her chest guardedly. "How'd you find that out?"

"Doesn't matter," he said dismissively, waving his hand. "Andy, this is serious. You need to file a complaint against him."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes, "There's no reason to do that."

"Don't give me that," Sam said, "I saw your arm, remember?"

"I told you it was an accident," she replied, breaking eye contact.

"It doesn't matter if it was an accident or not, he should never have put his hands on you," Sam told her. "That's not all, is it? What does he say to you?"

Andy sighed and shook her head, flustered and frustrated. "It's not that a of big deal. Luke says that I just need to stick it out."

Sam rolled his eyes at the mention of her boyfriend. "Well, Callaghan's an idiot and doesn't know what he's talking about."

"It's just typical rookie stuff Sam," Andy maintained, not bothering to get into an argument about Luke. "There's no reason to make it a bigger deal than it is."

"Typical rookie stuff?" He repeated. "So…. what? You think he's just being a hardass, is that it?"

"Yes," she replied. "That's it."

"Huh," Sam huffed sarcastically. "That's interesting. I'm pretty sure most of my rookies would call me a hardass, but you know what?"

"What?" she snapped.

"Never once have I suggested that one of them should perform oral sex instead of asking questions."

It was his ace in the hole and he hadn't intended to bring it up, but the words came flying out of his mouth before he could stop them.

She visibly recoiled. "Who told you that?"

"Who cares who told me?" Sam asked indignantly. "Did he say that?"

She sighed, looking away. "It was Chris, wasn't it?"

"Andy," Sam said, growing more incensed by the second, "Did he really say?"

"I may have misinterpreted…" She tried to reason, but he cut her off when he slammed his hand down on the counter.

She flinched at the loud noise and then looked towards the stairs. "Keep it down. Lindsey's upstairs."

When he spoke again, his voice was unnaturally low and steady and she could tell he was fighting to control his anger. "That is sexual harassment, McNally. You have to report him."

"What good is reporting him going to do?" Andy seethed through clenched teeth. "He's going to deny everything and then be even more pissed at me than he already is."

Sam sighed. It was the same thing he'd told Oliver earlier that day and unfortunately, it was probably true. Unless there was concrete evidence of something Boyd had done or said, there was little that could be done.

"I have two months until I'm cut loose," Andy told him. "Two months," she repeated. "I can deal with him for two more months."

Sam eyed her carefully, taking in her determined expression. "Why don't you ask to be reassigned to another training officer?" He suggested.

She shook her head, "I can't." He started to argue with her but she continued, "Not without filing a formal complaint and having that on my record."

They stared at each other in stony silence.

"It's not right, Andy," he said after a moment. "He's not teaching you, he's making wildly inappropriate comments and he's taking advantage of his role as a training officer."

"I know," she acknowledged with a sigh of resignation. "I can handle it though."

Sam knew before the argument even began that it wasn't one he was going to be able win. Not against Andy, as infuriatingly stubborn as she was. "Promise me something," he said.

"What?"

"If it gets to the point where you can't handle it," he narrowed his eyes, hoping she would catch his meaning, "You'll tell me."

"I promise," she replied sincerely, meeting his gaze.

"Okay," he nodded sharply. His voiced hitched slightly as he admitted, "I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Right." Andy smiled uneasily. "Lindsey'd probably be upset."

Sam smiled back, just as uneasily. "It's the last thing that Lindsey needs," he agreed.

A few days later, Sam and Dov were on patrol, riding together in comfortable silence. Sam had his left arm propped on the window ledge and was maneuvering through the streets of the city with ease.

"Sir," Dov broke the silence hesitantly. "Did you uh, did you ever get the chance to follow up on Officer Boyd? Andy's TO?"

Sam sighed and squinted into the morning sun. "I can't do anything unless McNally reports him. My hands are tied." He took his eyes off the road and glanced over at his rookie. "Why?"

Dov shrugged, "No reason, it's just, last night…"

"Last night what?"

"Last night when Chris and I got to the Penny," he paused and then explained, "It looked like Andy had been crying."

"What do you mean she had been crying?"

"Well, she wasn't sobbing or anything, but her eyes were red and she was doing this weird hiccupping thing," Dov told him, trying to demonstrate. "And there were tears. Not a lot of them, but they were definitely there."

Sam narrowed his eyes and his grip tightened on the steering wheel. "Do you know what happened?"

"I don't know the full story, just what Traci told us later, but apparently something happened and Andy threatened to complain and Boyd told her he'd ruin her career if she did," Dov relayed as much information as he knew. "Andy wants to be a police officer more than anything, sir. She'd be devastated if he took that away from her."

Sam thought it over. "You're certain she was crying because of Boyd?"

"Yes, sir. A hundred percent." Dov confirmed. "And Andy never cries."

Sam nodded slowly, carrying on an internal argument with himself. He'd been good; despite his initial reaction when he saw the bruise on Andy's arm, he'd stayed away from Boyd and had tried to get her to file a complaint. No one could say he hadn't at least _tried _to go about things the right way.

He noticed the trashcans that littered the sidewalks. "You know what today is?"

"It's Wednesday sir, the twelfth," Dov answered confidently.

"It's garbage day Epstein. You know what that means?"

"It means that the trash gets picked up today?" Dov guessed hesitantly.

"No, it means that McNally doesn't work today," Sam said. "And if McNally's not working…"

Dov grinned, finishing, "Boyd's not working."

Sam looked over at his rookie, impressed. "Nice work Epstein." He turned the computer monitor to the passenger's side. "Now find me his address. We're gonna pay him a little visit." He paused. "Well," he retracted, "I'm gonna pay him a little visit. You're going to sit in the cruiser and pretend like you don't see anything."

Dov nodded firmly. "I can absolutely do that, sir."

* * *

><p>AN: There's more to the SamBoyd/Brennan story that will be revealed later. Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: I apologize to those of you who I told that this would be up yesterday. I finished it but then as I was reading through there were some things I wasn't very happy with and wanted to rework. As always, thank you so much for the reviews on the last chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.

* * *

><p>Sam knocked on the brown, nondescript door of the house that sat in the middle of a row of townhomes. He knocked again and then stepped back, waiting for someone to answer.<p>

Boyd opened the door, bare-chested and buckling the belt that held up his low slung jeans. He squinted at Sam, as if he was having trouble seeing because he had just woken up, and then greeted him, "Sammy, buddy, what's up?"

Sam wanted to roll his eyes at the other man's use of his nickname. There were only a select few individuals who he didn't mind calling him "Sammy" and Boyd was definitely not one of those few. He decided to bypass pleasantries and get to the real reason he was there. "Andy McNally is your rookie, correct?"

Boyd glanced around, suddenly seeming anxious, and then snorted with a laugh. "Yeah, why?"

"Well, it's come to my attention, through a variety of sources actually, that you've been giving her some trouble."

Boyd shook his head. "Don't know what you're talking about man."

"Oh, I think you do," Sam assured him.

Boyd pursed his lips and crossed his arms, assuming a defensive stance. "And what does how I treat my rookie have to do with you?"

"She's a family friend," Sam told him easily, not bothering to offer any more information. "Here's the deal, I'm going to make this very simple - start training her like you're supposed to, stop yelling at her all the time and stop making vulgar comments."

Boyd scratched at his beard. "Or what, exactly?" He asked with mock curiosity.

"Or I'm going start bringing things up. Things from three years ago," Sam told him, keeping his expression neutral. "Things you probably don't want brought up."

"Oh, okay," Boyd scoffed. He rolled his eyes and went to shut his door, but Sam stuck his arm out, keeping it from closing. Boyd looked at the hand on his door and then back at Sam, arching an eyebrow in question.

Sam smiled at him patiently, the kind of smile a parent gives an unruly child. "You and I both know that had I made more noise, suspension would have been the least of your problems."

"Sam, let's not dredge up the past," Boyd said. "It's over, it's done with… we've both moved on."

"Nope," Sam shook his head, "I really don't think I have. And I promise you, if you continue to make McNally's life hell, I will go down to internal affairs and I will make so much noise, they will fire you just to shut me up."

"Like they're going to listen to you now," Boyd challenged. "It's been three years."

"It's incredible how being tortured can really repress a person's memories," Sam replied menacingly. He twirled his finger in a circle. "Things are just coming back to me daily."

"You're lying," Boyd claimed, the hitch in his voice giving away his nerves.

"Try me," Sam dared. "See where it gets you."

Sam was bluffing. Before he'd gone on his two-week paid leave courtesy of the city, he'd told internal affairs everything he knew about the Brennan, the undercover operation and Boyd. He hadn't been around when they had settled on Boyd's punishment but, given the fact that Boyd still had a job, he'd always suspected that somehow, someway, things had gotten swept under the proverbial rug. Boyd's less than confident response to his threats was only strengthening those suspicions.

"You know what Boyd," Sam continued, shaking his head, "It's been a really, _really _bad year for me and there isn't much that would make me happier than putting a headstone on your career."

"You wouldn't," Boyd sneered.

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Trust me, I would. And I swear to God," he threatened between clenched teeth, his hand resting meaningfully on his gun, "If I ever see another bruise on her, it will not be your career that I will end."

Boyd looked at him and after a moment his expression changed from fear to one of amusement. He laughed, "Oh, I get it now. You're screwing a rookie. What?" he grinned suggestively, "Is she too depressed to give you some lovin' when she gets home for work? Not getting enough rookie nookie?"

Sam felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He licked his bottom lip and cautioned, "Watch it."

"Of course," Boyd continued, "I'd think the angry sex would be incredible." He whistled and shook his head. "Gotta hand it to you, she is a hot little thing. A little mouthy maybe," he mused sardonically, "But that could be put to good use."

Sam glared at him and then grinned mirthlessly, baring his teeth. He began to chuckle, low and humorless, and Boyd, looking uncertain at first, eventually joined in. After a moment of seemingly genial, knowing laughter, Sam clapped Boyd on the shoulder and then, when the other man was least suspecting, delivered a swift, strong uppercut to his midsection, knocking the wind of out him. Boyd made a noise that was a mix between a grunt and a whimper and fell to the ground, hunched over and gasping for air.

Sam crouched down beside the wheezing man. "This shouldn't have to be said but, as I just witnessed, the depth of your stupidity and lack of anything resembling common sense never ceases to amaze me, so I'm going to make myself clear." He paused until Boyd looked up at him. "You don't breath a word of this to McNally or to anyone else for that matter. Got it?" Boyd just nodded. "We good?"

Boyd coughed and cleared his throat, letting out a hoarse, "Yeah man."

"Good," Sam patted Boyd on the shoulder and then stood to his feet, adjusting his belt. He started to walk away and then turned back around. "Oh, one more thing." Boyd glanced up at him, "Don't ever call me Sammy."

Sam made his way back to the patrol car, smiling cordially to a lady on the sidewalk as he passed by. He opened the door to the cruiser and then lowered himself into the driver's seat. When he glanced over at his rookie, he found Dov was staring at him with wide-eyed admiration. "That. Was. Awesome," Dov said, punctuating every word. "You hit him and he just, POW!" he clapped his hands together, "Fell right to the ground."

"Yeah well," Sam grimaced as his fingers curled around the keys to turn the ignition, "I wasn't planning on hitting him but he pissed me off." He inspected his knuckles and found that they were bleeding. "Get me a napkin or something, would you? I must have hit his belt buckle."

Dov pulled some napkins out of the glove compartment and handed them over. "There's a first aid kit in the trunk, you want me to get that?"

"No, this'll be fine."

Dov looked back to see that Boyd had finally peeled himself off the ground and gone inside. "You think he's going to leave Andy alone now?"

Sam dabbed at his fingers with the napkin, hissing slightly when it stung, and then shrugged. "Hope so." He flexed his fingers. "We'll see."

Andy wasn't given the opportunity to notice the change in her training officer immediately. Two hours into her shift on Friday she and the other rookies were assigned to help with the search for a missing child. They were briefed on the details – male, six years old, last seen the night before when his parents tucked him into bed – and told that the fifteenth division was heading up the investigation. They were sent to Queen's Park, where there had been a confirmed sighting of the young boy on one of the surveillance cameras in the area.

"Hey McNally," Oliver called to the rookie when she got out of her squad car, waving her over, "They send you guys to help?"

She nodded and gestured back to the other officers from twenty-seven, "Yeah, there's four of us here and there are two more on the way."

"Good, good, we're gonna need all the bodies we can get," Oliver admitted, distractedly scratching his forehead with his thumb. Andy could already hear the strain of the day in his voice. "Sam's running this, so you guys can head over there and he'll tell you what to do." He jerked his thumb over to a picnic table that had been made into a make-shift command station. Sam was hunched over at one with a map in front of him, marking off areas of the park for the search.

Andy observed him for a moment, thinking how strange it was to see him in uniform and on the job. Even though she knew he was a police officer, her superior officer at that, being around him in a professional capacity was odd. They made their way over to him and he stood up straighter when he saw them approach. He acknowledged Andy with a subtle nod and then was all business, giving them a run down of the investigation so far and laying out the parameters for the search.

There had been a storm the night before and the ground was waterlogged and covered with a layer of damp leaves. It was still drizzling and the air was chilled from the recent cold front. When Sam delegated responsibilities, small puffs of condensation formed with each word he spoke.

As uncomfortable as the weather was, it only added to the already heavy sense of urgency.

They were teamed up with officers from fifteen and sent out to look for anything and everything that might be important. Andy and another rookie from twenty-seven, Brad, were teamed up with Dov and Traci. There were hasty introductions made, but everyone was far more concerned with finding the little boy than they were with getting to know each other.

Half an hour later, it was Andy that found him, his small body crumpled unnaturally behind a large tree, covered with debris and trash bags and limbs that had fallen from the storm. His skin was pale and grey and there was a large wound on the side of his head.

She sucked in a sharp breath of air, pushing her horror and the sudden sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach aside, and knelt down to check for a pulse while calling out to Dov. She couldn't find a pulse, but her hands were shaking so badly that she asked Dov to check as well, hoping she had just missed it.

She radioed it in, fumbling over her words as she tried to get the message out. From across the park, she could see Sam and Oliver start running her way when they received the call.

Dov stood up, shaking his head. Andy hunched over, feeling like she was going to be sick, and took several deep, controlled breaths, willing herself to keep it together until she could break down in private.

The next hour seemed like a blur. There was a flurry of activity and she was asked to give her account of finding the boy at least three different times to three different people. The medical examiner arrived, along with CSU, and the area was roped off as a crime scene.

Finally, the officers of twenty-seven were told they could return to their station and finish up there.

Andy was about to slam the cruiser door shut when Sam called out to her, jogging over. She got to her feet and leaned against the side of the car, waiting for him.

As he got nearer he slowed and approached cautiously. His arms were out and for a second she thought, hoped even, as inappropriate as it would have been, that he was going to draw her into them. Instead, he rested one hand on the top of the car and the other on the open door, trapping her in the space between the car and his body. Had Brad not been sitting in the passenger's seat, she might have leaned against him. As it was, she simply lowered her head and huddled in front of him, shielding herself against the wind.

"You okay?" He asked. His voice was low and only meant for her.

She chewed on her lip and nodded, looking down.

"If this is ruled a homicide, which it's gonna be, it's fifteen's."

Again she nodded. "I know." He didn't have to elaborate; it was going to be Luke's case.

There was a stretch of silence. "You shouldn't be alone tonight," he said finally. Her eyes flicked up to meet his for the first time. "If you are…" he didn't have to spell out why she would be, "Come over."

Andy swallowed hard. She wanted to protest, to tell him that she would be fine, but she heard herself saying, "Okay."

"Okay," he repeated with a slight nod. He pushed her door open further and moved back, giving her space to climb into the car. She did and he slammed the door shut and then slapped the back of the car as she pulled away.

She didn't get home until late, after dark. Her clothing was drenched from her walk home and her nose and ears were red from the cold. She could have taken a bus or a taxi, but she needed the time alone.

Before she left the station she had called Luke and was unsurprised to learn that he had taken on the case.

"You doing okay?" He asked. "I heard you were the one that found him."

"Yeah, I did," she said. She took a deep breath. "I'm okay."

"I'm going to be swamped here tonight," Luke told her apologetically. "Do you want to come by? We can grab a quick bite to eat somewhere, or…"

"No," she interrupted him. "That's fine. I know you're busy."

"I'll call you later, okay?" He promised.

"Yeah, okay." She frowned as she ended the call.

In the privacy of her home, as she pulled her wet clothes off, she thought over the brief conversation and tried to reason with herself. It was his job. She knew that. She knew what the life of homicide detective was like before she even started dating him. It was unfair to hold it against him, but on a night when she needed him, needed his comfort, she couldn't help but feel disappointed and hurt.

While she was tugging on a comfortable pair of sweats she debated with herself about whether or not she should take Sam up on his invitation.

On one hand, it would be admitting that she was alone.

On the other hand, she was alone. And she really _really _didn't want to be.

Every time she didn't fill her mind with something else, anything else, the image of the little boy would pop up and her chest would tighten with panic and she would have difficulty breathing. She could still feel his cold, lifeless skin under her fingertips. It wasn't the first time she had seen a dead person but it was the first time she had seen someone so young and so innocent.

She couldn't spend the night curled up on her sofa, replaying the horrible day over and over.

The decision made, she pulled on a pair of boots and her coat and made her way next door.

Sam opened the door almost immediately, as if he had been waiting for her.

"Hi." Andy greeted him simply and even to her own ears her voice sounded weak and drained.

"Hey," was Sam's gruff reply. He kept one hand on the door and was stretched across the entrance, his other hand making a fist against the doorframe. His dark eyes bore into hers and she had to look away, shifting uncomfortably under his tense gaze. He didn't looked at all surprised to see her and she was thankful when he didn't make a comment as to what her appearance on his doorstep meant.

Luke had chosen work over being there for her, again.

It was embarrassing enough without Sam pointing it out and, to his credit, he didn't. Without another word, he pushed himself back and moved aside to allow her in, out of the cold, wet night air.

She stepped into the house and shrugged off her coat, handing to him when he reached for it. Their fingers brushed together as she handed it over and she found herself holding on to the material for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, enjoying the warmth of his touch.

Sam gently tugged at her coat and she let go, quickly turning away from him to hide the sudden and involuntary blush that colored her cheeks. He hung it in the closet with the other outerwear and then moved past her down the short hallway, asking, "Have you eaten?"

She shook herself out of her daze, reminding herself that it had been an emotional day and she was in no state to be noticing how warm his hands were. Or how good he smelled. "I'm fine," she insisted unconvincingly.

He stopped and turned back to look at her. "Come on," he said in a tone that didn't leave room for argument. "We already ate but there's plenty of leftovers."

As she followed him into the kitchen, she heard Lindsey call out, "Is that Andy?"

"Yep," Sam replied, opening the refrigerator.

Andy leaned against the counter and called back, "Hey Lindsey!"

There was a patter of footsteps and then Lindsey appeared in the kitchen. "Oh good," she said, not bothering to question Andy's presence or whether or not she would be staying. "You can be the tiebreaker for tonight's movie. Would you rather watch Transformers," she said the word slowly, shaking her head, "Or Pride and Prejudice." She nodded eagerly, making her choice obvious.

Andy laughed at her enthusiasm and then tapped her chin, pretending to think. "I think I'm going to have to go with Pride and Prejudice."

"Yes! Ha, you'll have to watch your stupid robot movie later." Lindsey gloated to her uncle. "I'm just going to get it ready."

"Traitor," Sam mumbled under his breath as Lindsey went back into the living room. He pulled out a Tupperware container that was holding some kind of soup and then closed the refrigerator door. "I'm feeding you and everything."

"You should thank me. I just saved you from what could have been a very embarrassing and potentially scarring movie watching experience." A look of confusion crossed Sam's face and Andy asked, "Have you seen Transformers?"

"No," he admitted, "The kid at the movie rental place recommended it though."

"Aw, you still go to the store to rent a movie?" A grin spread across Andy's face. "That's… cute."

Sam looked at her suspiciously. "Why is that cute?"

"No one goes to the movie store anymore. Well, no one except you, apparently. They have those movie rental kiosks on pretty much every block now," Andy told him.

"Oh." Sam bent to retrieve a pot from under the counter. "Those things that look like ATMs?"

Andy nodded. "Yep. You'd love it, you don't have to talk to anyone. You just swipe your credit card and pick your movie."

"Sounds life-changing," Sam deadpanned. Andy smirked at him and he reciprocated in kind. He turned the stove on and asked, "So, why is it I should be thanking you for choosing a movie where women sit around yapping in a British accent?"

"Oh right. The main character of Transformers? His name is Sam."

"Good name," Sam quipped.

"Yeah," Andy humored him. "Well, there's a scene where Sam's mom walks in on him and finds him in what she thinks is a compromising situation, but what she thinks is going on really isn't what's going on but Sam doesn't want to tell her what's really going on so he just let's her think she knows what's going on…"

"McNally…" He interrupted her rambling, prodding her to get to the point.

"Right, anyway, long story short, there's a discussion and they use the phrase "Sam's happy time" and I just think it would have been weird and awkward to hear that." She paused. "Because your name is Sam," she explained unnecessarily. "And they were talking about… you know. And no one wants to think about you doing… that." Sam arched an eyebrow and Andy groaned and dropped her head into her hands, "Oh my god, I'm just going to stop now."

Sam wet his lips and then grinned, thoroughly enjoying her apparent mortification. "I'm glad you saved us all from that embarrassment," he said wryly.

Andy looked up at him, her cheeks flaming red, and couldn't help but smile. He was teasing her. "Oh, anytime," she replied before laughing and shaking her head. She had been on the verge of tears all day but five minutes at his place and she was already laughing.

She nodded towards the living room and asked, "Speaking of embarrassing… how's Lindsey doing?"

Sam shot her a look she couldn't read and then reached to open a drawer, pulling out a pamphlet of some sort. He handed it over to her without a word.

Andy let out a loud snort of laughter when she read the title. _Everything You Need to Know About Your Period. _"What is this?"

Sam had already turned away from her, back to whatever he was making on the stove. "Lindsey brought that home from school for me," he explained. "Apparently she decided the best way to get past the awkwardness was to just be open and honest about everything."

"That is a very mature approach to take," Andy replied.

Sam turned to her and pushed up the sleeves of his shirt before crossing his arms. "I thought that nothing could be worse than the birds and the bees talk I got from my mom when I was eight," he told her, looking disturbed. "But then I had to read that with my niece sitting right beside me and I realized I was very, very, wrong."

Andy started to giggle, imagining the conversation that must have taken place between Lindsey and her uncle. She kind of wished she had been there, just to bask in Sam's nervousness. "Wow," she exclaimed, reading over the material. "This is very informative."

"Oh yeah," Sam nodded, "I know more than I ever wanted or, in my opinion, needed to know." When Andy burst out laughing he turned to her and, with a completely straight face, said, "I'm glad you think this is funny."

"Come on," She laughed. "You have to admit, it's pretty funny. If Oliver were in your position, you'd be cracking up."

The ends of Sam's lips curled and he finally cracked a grin, shrugging, "You're probably right."

"Hey," Andy said, trying to sound supportive. "If you made it through this you can make it through anything. Maybe. Hopefully. I don't know," she admitted, "Dating's probably gonna be rough."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he said warily, taking the pamphlet from her. He put it back where he it got it from and covered it with various take out menus and flyers before slamming the drawer shut.

There was a lull in the conversation and Andy fidgeted in her spot while Sam calmly stirred something on the stove. When she couldn't take the silence any more, she spoke up. "So, what's that you're making over there?"

"Soup," Sam answered.

Andy rolled her eyes. "Well I know it's soup," she said, moving to stand next to him. She peered over his shoulder. "What kind of soup?"

"Italian sausage and vegetable."

"Oh. What's in it?"

Sam looked at her and slowly replied, "Italian sausage and vegetables."

Andy slapped him on the arm. "I know that, I meant what kind of vegetables."

He shook his head. "Secret family recipe," he said, pulling a bowl out of the cabinet beside the stove. "Can't tell you."

"You expect me to eat that without knowing what's in it?" She asked, watching as he spooned the soup into the bowl.

"Well, you can either eat this," He said, carefully handing the bowl over to her. "Or you can starve. My guess is you're gonna eat it."

Andy cradled the bowl in her hands. "It _does_ smell delicious," she admitted reluctantly.

He grinned and gave her a spoon, "It's good, I promise. Careful though, it's hot."

"I think I can manage," Andy assured him, She took a small spoonful and blew on it, cooling it off, before lifting it to her lips. "Mmmm…. This is really good." She took another bite and then asked, "Who taught you to cook like this?"

His back was already turned to her to clean up so when he answered, "Sarah," she couldn't see his expression.

She was about to ask him another question when there was a low, guttural sound behind them. They both turned to see Lindsey standing in the doorway, looking perturbed. "Are you guys coming to watch the movie or not?"

Andy had completely forgotten that Lindsey was setting up the movie. "Oh yeah, " She said, pushing herself away from the counter. "I'm right behind you."

"I'm just gonna clean up," Sam called after them. "Feel free to start without me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Andy replied, turning to grin at him before following his niece into the living room.

They settled in to watch the movie, Lindsey and Andy on the sofa and Sam, when he joined them a few minutes later, in his chair. Andy curled up and ate her soup, the hot liquid warming her chilled body, and found herself being pulled into the story of Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy.

They paused the movie about an hour in when Lindsey declared she needed to use the bathroom. The young girl popped off the sofa and threw her uncle the remote, telling them that she would be right back.

"You know Sam," Andy said, "You're kind of like Mr. Darcy."

Sam smirked. "Handsome, intelligent, charming…"

"Arrogant, sarcastic, monotone," She looked over at him, "In the habit of doing things for others without their consent." A look that Andy couldn't quite identify washed over Sam's face… guilt, maybe? She didn't want him to get the wrong idea and think she was upset with him, so she smiled, "I noticed the hedges were trimmed. Thank you."

"Oh," he replied uneasily, as if he thought she had been talking about something else, "You're welcome."

"Of course," Andy continued, "Elizabeth Bennett is a brunette, so Jane would probably be more your type."

Sam quirked an eyebrow. "Who said I don't like brunettes?"

"You did." Andy looked back at him incredulously. "You said I wasn't your type. I'm a brunette."

"I said insurance adjusters weren't my type," he reminded her. "I like brunettes just fine."

"You probably should go for a brunette next time," Lindsey advised, returning to the room. "Monica was a blonde and look how well that turned out."

Andy perked up. "Who is Monica?"

"Uncle Sam's ex-girlfriend," Lindsey told her, climbing onto the couch and folding her feet beneath her.

Sam groaned from his chair. "Andy doesn't want to hear about my ex-girlfriends, Lindsey."

Andy nodded, looking from Sam to his niece. "Yes I do."

"Monica was the only one I ever met," Lindsey said, rolling her eyes. "Ugh. She was horrible."

"Lindsey!" Sam admonished.

"She was!" Lindsey insisted. "Mom liked her because they were both nurses but we went to lunch with her once and she ignored me the entire time. And she was rude. Not funny rude, rude rude."

Andy grinned at Lindsey's clarification of Monica's rudeness and asked Sam, "When did that end?"

"Few months ago," he answered nonchalantly. Andy's brow furrowed at his casual tone and she looked at him curiously. A few months ago he either would have been undercover or it would have been shortly after Sarah had died. He must have felt her eyes on him because he shifted his gaze to meet hers, shaking his head slightly. She took the hint not to continue with that line of questioning.

It didn't matter, because Lindsey quickly informed her, "Yeah, she dumped him right after he got me."

Sam sighed heavily. "She did not dump me, we decided not to see each other anymore," he corrected. "And it had nothing to do with you."

"Whatever," Lindsey argued, obviously upset on behalf of her uncle. "She dumped you right after you got custody of your dead sister's daughter. What a winner she was."

Andy's eyes widened at the young girl's sudden outburst of anger. She imagined that Lindsey had to feel guilty over her uncle's break up whether she was the catalyst or not.

"Lindsey," Sam said, addressing only his niece. His tone was firm but kind. "You know that is not true."

Lindsey rolled her eyes and slumped back into the sofa, folding her arms in front of her chest with a huff. "Let's just watch the movie."

Sam stared at his niece, who studiously avoided his gaze, and chewed on the inside of his lip for a moment, but then held the remote towards the television and pressed play. Andy looked over at him and mouthed "Sorry". He winked at her and shook his head slightly, letting her know he wasn't upset.

Andy sighed and nestled into the corner of the sofa, turning her attention back to the movie. Her interest had waned during the brief intermission and she found herself fighting to keep her heavy eyelids open. She pulled one of the pillows up to the armrest and relaxed against it, stifling a yawn.

When the movie ended, Lindsey whispered, "Uncle Sam." She pointed at Andy, who had fallen asleep. "Should I wake her up?"

At some point Andy had stretched out her legs, as much as she could anyway with Lindsey at the other end of the couch, and one hand was cradled under her head while the other was clasped between her thighs. She was snoring softly and ever so often her cheek twitched.

Sam shook his head. "No, it's okay," he said quietly, motioning to the television. "I'm going to watch the news so we can let her sleep a little while longer."

"Okay," Lindsey agreed, gently standing to her feet so as not to disturb the sleeping woman. She pulled the blanket off the back of the sofa and covered Andy with it before making her way over to her uncle. "I'm going to go to bed. Goodnight," she said.

"Goodnight sweetie," Sam said, sitting up in his chair to quickly press a kiss against the top of Lindsey's head. "Love you."

"Love you too," she replied with a tired smile, padding towards the stairs.

Sam clicked through the channels and found a late night show. He watched for as long as he could, not fully understanding why he was putting off waking Andy up, but when he felt himself nodding off he knew he couldn't wait any longer.

He approached her carefully, not wanting to startle her. "Andy," he whispered, kneeling down beside her. He shook her shoulder gently. "Andy, wake up." She stuck out her hand to push him away, mumbling incoherently in her sleep. Sam's lips twitched with a small smile and he nudged her again, whispering her name.

She reached her hand out again and this time it connected with the side of his face. The contact must have woken her up because her eyes fluttered open and she blinked a couple of time to focus them. "Hey," she said hoarsely. "I fell asleep."

Sam chuckled softly, his hand resting on her shoulder. "Yeah, you did."

"Did the movie end?" She mumbled, still not fully awake.

He glanced at his watch. "Yeah, like an hour ago."

Her forehead wrinkled adorably. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Thought I'd let you sleep for a while," he said quietly. "It's been a long day."

"Yeah," she nodded, feeling the emotion of the day come rushing back, "It has."

He gave her a small half-smile and his brown eyes were soft and kind. His hand was warm against her shoulder and she absently reached out, running her fingers up his arm to cup his jaw in her hand.

His breath caught in his throat and he found himself leaning forward. "Andy," he croaked.

"Hmm?" She murmured, tracing her thumb over the scar beneath his eye.

"What are you doing?"

The question snapped Andy out of her daze. "I don't know," she said, sobering. She sighed and removed her hand, flopping over onto her back. Pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes, she groaned, "Luke took the case."

Sam sighed and then moved to sit on the other end of the sofa, pushing her feet out of the way. "I know," he said.

"It's his job, right?" Andy said, trying to convince herself. "He had to take it."

"Yeah," Sam answered, laying his hand against her bent knee. "He works homicide, Andy. What we saw today… he deals with the all the time. He doesn't mean to, but he probably just forgets how hard it can be."

Andy looked at him for a moment and then her lips curled into a slight smile. "How much did that hurt?

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"To say something nice about Luke," Andy clarified. "How much did that hurt?"

Sam chuckled. "I'd rather tazer myself than do it again," he admitted, his mouth twisting into a grin.

Andy laughed, "Well you don't have to." She hesitated, her laughter dying, and then muttered, "If I'm going to be with him I need to get used to the job coming first, huh?"

Sam pursed his lips but then nodded "If you're going to be with him, yeah." He paused. "If you're going to be with him."

Andy didn't miss the meaning behind his words. She had a choice; she didn't _have _to be in a relationship with Luke.

"Hey," she said, nudging him with her foot. "Enough about me. Tell me what happened with Monica."

"Ah," Sam groaned, leaning back against the couch. "It was just a case of bad timing, that's all." Andy raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with his answer, so he elaborated, "We met before I went under this last time and dated right up until I left." He squinted and scratched at something on his jeans. "It was kind of an understood thing that if she was single when I got back we'd start dating more seriously. But then… " he shrugged, "Well, things changed. I tried to see her a couple of times but I could tell she wasn't into it."

"What do you mean?"

"Monica wasn't sure if she even wanted kids of her own," he said. "She definitely didn't want to raise someone else's teenager. Can't really say I blame her. Plus, I was trying to get Lindsey settled in, so it wasn't like I had a lot of time on my hands."

Andy stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if his laidback attitude was genuine or just an act. It was so hard to tell with him. "I'm sorry," she said after a moment.

Sam waved his hand. "It's not a big deal. Probably wouldn't have worked out anyway. Despite what Lindsey says," his lip tugged into a half smile when he mentioned his niece, "Monica's not a bad person. I don't think too many women will be jumping at the chance to take us on."

Andy's brow furrowed and she suddenly felt very sad for him. There were times when she was around him and Lindsey that she forgot how dramatically their lives had changed right before she met them. She forgot that they were both still adjusting to a new way of life that was very different from what they were used to. Sam always seemed so unflappable and self-assured that when there were small glimpses of vulnerability she wasn't sure how to respond.

She wanted to say something encouraging but before she could think of anything he sighed and looked at his watch.

"It's late," he said, standing up. "Come on, I'll walk you home."

Andy took the hand he offered her and got to her feet. "I can walk home on my own," she insisted, "It's like, ten feet."

"What kind of police officer would I be if I let you walk home alone, late at night, in the dark?" Sam asked, heading towards the front of the house.

"Um…" Andy followed after him, offering, "The kind of police officer that lives right next door to me?"

Sam opened the closet to pull out her coat. "Would you stop arguing with me and just let me walk you home?" He asked, holding the coat up for her so she could slip her arms into it.

"Fine," she agreed, fastening the row of buttons down the front. "But I want the record to show that I think it's silly."

"Duly noted," Sam said, opening the front door. They were hit with a blast of cold air that made Sam curse and Andy instinctively hooked her arm around his, huddling close for warmth. The short trip was made in silence, save for Andy's chattering teeth. Whey they reached her house, he leaned against the wall as she fumbled with her keys, finally finding the right one and slipping it into the lock.

"Hey, Sam?" She said, turning to face him before she stepped into her house.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for tonight. For inviting me over."

"You're welcome," he replied.

She took half a step closer to him, close enough for the material of her coat to brush against his chest. "One day, someone's gonna jump."

The crease between his eyes deepened and he looked at her, confused. "What?"

"At the chance to be with you." Andy smiled. "You're a good man. And Lindsey's a good kid."

A strange look flickered across his face and he pressed his lips together in a tight smile. "Goodnight, Andy."

She pushed her door open. "Goodnight."

* * *

><p>AN: Just as an FYI- I'm going out of town tomorrow for a week and I'm not sure how much internet access I will have. If I don't update like I normally do, don't worry... I haven't given up on the story! As soon as I return I'll get back to the regularly scheduled updates.<p> 


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: I'm back! Thank you all for the sweet well-wishes after the last chapter. I had a fabulous trip, got to see a good friend get married and visited with friends and family I haven't seen in years. It is always good to come home though!

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.

When Lindsey knocked on Andy's door one Saturday morning, she wasn't expecting a tall, blonde, blue-eyed man to answer it.

"Oh, hi," she stammered, caught off guard by his presence.

He smiled and his teeth were perfectly straight and gleaming white. "Good morning."

"Good morning," she returned the greeting out of instinct. "Um. Is Andy home?"

The man glanced over his shoulder and then looked back to her, smile still in place. "She's taking a shower," he said. "Do you want me to tell her that you dropped by?"

"Sure," she replied. "I'm Lindsey."

The man's eyes widened with recognition. "You must be Sam's niece. Andy's told me all about you."

"Right," Lindsey said, furrowing her brow intentionally. She looked at him suspiciously and feigned ignorance. "And who are you?"

She knew who he was. Even though she'd never met him or, for that matter, ever seen a picture of him, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that only a family member or significant other would open a person's door so casually.

The man's smile faltered slightly but he answered, "I'm Luke. Andy's boyfriend."

"Oh," she replied, emotionless. Her dark eyes shifted up and down, carefully scrutinizing him.

Luke found himself squirming under her gaze, shifting his feet, disconcertingly intimidated by the girl's stare. It was one he'd seen her uncle use before. Against criminals. "Hasn't Andy told you about me?"

Lindsey shrugged, "Not really." It wasn't a complete lie. It wasn't like he was a regular topic of conversation.

His face fell. "Oh. Well, did you want me to tell her something or…" he trailed off in question.

"I was going to see if she wanted to carve pumpkins with us," Lindsey told him.

"Well, I think Andy's going to be busy today, but I'll let her know."

"Okay," she regarded him coolly. "We're going to go get the pumpkins soon so if she wants us to get her one, she can call my uncle." She paused for a beat and then informed him, "She has his number."

"I'll pass along the message," Luke replied, smiling patiently.

"Or she can just come over and tell us," Lindsey continued, pointedly reminding him, "We live right next door."

Luke nodded, his patience waning. "Okay. It was nice to meet you Lindsey."

"You too." She smiled tightly and then turned on her heel, marching home. He watched her go, feeling slightly taken aback by the encounter.

"Who was that?" Andy asked, coming out of the bedroom. Fresh from of the shower, she was wearing a robe and using a towel to squeeze the water out of her hair.

Luke closed the door and looked back at her, a funny expression on his face. "Lindsey," he told her. "She wanted to know if you wanted to carve pumpkins with them."

Andy perked up. "When?"

"Today sometime. She didn't say exactly."

Andy looked thoughtful, moving the towel through her hair. "That sounds like it could be fun. I haven't carved pumpkins in… gosh, at least five years."

Luke moved over to her and slid his hands around her waist. "I was kind of thinking that we could spend the day together," he pouted, bending down and mumbling against the skin of her neck. He pulled on the ends of the belt, loosening it enough to slip his hands inside.

His cold fingers tickled her warmed skin and Andy giggled, slapping at his hands and moving away from him. "I thought you had to work?"

"I don't _have_ to work," he told her, following her into her kitchen. "I was just going to go in and get caught up on some paperwork."

She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of orange juice. "Oh," she said, her voice losing the lightness it held just a few moments earlier, "Well, if you're not going in then I'll just stay with you. Juice?"

He nodded and she retrieved two glasses from the cabinet. He took in her expression - lips turned downwards in a small frown, brow furrowed slightly – and was surprised to realize that she seemed disappointed about spending the day with him rather than carving pumpkins with Sam Swarek and his niece.

Surprised and concerned. Andy normally jumped at the chance to spend the day together. Luke rested his hip against the island in the center of the kitchen and folded his arms over his chest. "Is something wrong?"

Andy looked up at him from beneath her long lashes. She pursed her lips, hesitating, and then asked, "Are you staying home because you want to stay with me or because you don't want me to go over to Lindsey and Sam's?"

"Because I want to stay with you," he answered immediately and with sincerity that rang false in Andy's ears. "Of course. I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks."

Andy's eyes widened slightly but she schooled her expression as she poured juice into their glasses. "That's not my fault."

Luke huffed. "I've had to work, Andy, you know that."

She nodded, handing him his drink. "I know." As she took a sip of her juice, she debated whether or not it was worth even getting into the inevitable argument that would occur if she continued questioning him. "It's just odd that before I got into the shower your plan was to go to work and then when I got out, your plans changed."

"Well, plans change sometimes Andy," he said testily. "I thought you'd be happy."

She relented slightly. "I am," she said, forcing a smile.

Luke should have stopped there, but he continued. "And you seem to spend a lot of time with Sam and Lindsey."

Her smile fell and she stiffened defensively. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he quickly recanted.

She looked at him and he couldn't make out what she was thinking. Her eyes narrowed slowly, as if she was understanding something for the first time. "Are you jealous?"

Luke rolled his eyes and scoffed, "No. "

"Good," she responded firmly, as if the very idea of him being jealous was insulting.

"It's not entirely outrageous that I think it's strange that you spend so much time with your single, male neighbor."

"It's not like I'm alone with him," Andy said evenly, trying to control her reaction, "Lindsey's there too."

"Still, Andy," Luke persisted, "You're over there all the time."

"First of all, I am not over there all the time," Andy said, "And second, Sam and I are just friends, nothing more. I don't think I should have to defend myself when… " she broke off, losing her nerve.

"When I what?" Luke asked.

At his challenging tone, Andy set her jaw and shot back, "When you spend all day with your ex-fiancé!"

"I work with her Andy," he replied, sounding exasperated, "She's my partner."

"I know, I know." Andy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I don't want to get in a fight about this."

Luke sighed and reached his hand out, wrapping it around her waist and drawing her to him. "I don't either," he muttered.

Andy rested her hands on his chest, fingering the top button on his shirt. "I'll just call Lindsey and tell her I can't come. It's not a big deal."

He could tell that she was disappointed, which left him with an uneasy feeling. Andy's relationship with Sam Swarek and Lindsey was not one that Luke was entirely comfortable with; he just didn't understand why Andy would chose to spend time with the man, much less his teenaged niece. He felt certain that there was more going on than what Andy was telling him, no matter how innocent she tried to make it all seem. "How about this?" he proposed after a moment, peering down at her. "How about we both go over and carve pumpkins with them?"

Andy balked immediately at the idea, pushing away from him. "I don't thinks so Luke," she said, shaking her head, "You and Sam…"

"We're adults Andy," he told her, "We can get along. This way you can spend time with Lindsey and I can spend time with you."

She hesitated, somewhat suspicious of his motives. "Um…"

He continued, "And you know what, if Lindsey's going to be a part of your life, I should probably get to know her." He smiled broadly, hoping to convince her of his selfless, noble intentions.

"I don't know," she replied uncertainly, doubt still heavy in her voice.

"Just call him," Luke said, determined. "Can't hurt to ask."

Andy pressed her lips together in a tight smile. "Fine," she agreed after a moment. She slipped from his arms and moved around him so she could grab her cell phone.

- Ten Minutes Earlier -

The front door slammed and Sam looked up from the newspaper he was reading. A few seconds later his niece appeared in the kitchen, hands on her hips.

"Well," she said somberly, "I met him."

"Who?"

She arched an eyebrow. "The other man."

He folded down the top of his newspaper and rested his forearms against the table. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Lindsey heaved a heavy sigh, clearly exasperated with her dense uncle, and told him, "I just went over to Andy's, to ask her about coming over to carve pumpkins."

"Ah," Sam said, understanding. "You met Luke."

"Yes, I did."

"You weren't rude, were you?" Sam asked, his forehead creasing with worry.

"No, of course not," Lindsey answered easily, climbing up onto the counter to reach a bowl. "I did stare him down though. He squirmed like a little girl."

"Oh geez," Sam said, pressing his fingers between his eyes. "You can't do that to people, Lindsey. It's rude."

Lindsey rolled her eyes and began pouring herself some cereal. "Well, he looks like a tool," she commented, scrunching her nose in distaste. "He was wearing plaid. And khakis. On a Saturday. Who does that?"

"Lindsey," Sam warned, his tone firm. "Be respectful."

"I'm just being observant," she insisted, sitting down with him at the table and pulling her knee up to her chest. "And I observed that he looked like a tool."

Sam struggled to suppress a grin, but she caught the way his lips twitched at the corners.

"Ha! See! You agree with me." She took a big bite of cereal and, with her mouth still full and her words marbled, argued, "He's no good for her."

"First of all, that's disgusting," he said, pointing at her mouth, "Chew your food. Second, you met him for what? Two seconds? You don't know if he's good for her or not."

"I can just tell these things," she replied. "Call it women's intuition."

He raised an eyebrow and humored her, "Ah. Okay."

"So," Lindsey said, absently swirling her spoon through the milk in her bowl, "What are you going to do about it?"

"Do about what?" He asked naively.

"Luke, Uncle Sam," she answered, frustrated. "What are you going to do about Luke?"

"I'm not going to do anything about Luke," he replied, going back to his newspaper.

Lindsey narrowed her eyes at him in disbelief. "So you're fine with her dating him?"

"Andy can date whoever she wants to date Lindsey," Sam said, his eyes scanning over the front page.

"But… but…" She sputtered, "But _you_ want to date her." Sam looked at her over the top of the newspaper. "You do," she insisted, "I know you do."

Sam just "hmmed", neither confirming nor denying his niece's claim, and continued reading. Truth be told, he hadn't allowed himself to think too much about his feelings towards his neighbor. There were things he didn't try to deny, like the fact that she was attractive or that she was good with Lindsey, but there were other things, more complicated things, like how naturally she fit into their home and how easily she'd gotten him to open up about things he hadn't shared with anyone else, that he wouldn't let himself dwell on. Some things were just easier not to deal with.

Lindsey groaned. "You're impossible," she declared. She took another bite of her cereal and then commented, "I think she likes you too."

"She has a boyfriend Lindsey," he replied, his tone unaffected.

"That doesn't matter," Lindsey maintained. "She likes you. I can tell."

Sam slowly set his newspaper down. He didn't necessarily want to encourage his niece's match-making efforts, but his interest was piqued. "What makes you think she likes me?"

Lindsey grinned, eager to share her observations with her uncle. "She giggles and she touches your arm, like this…" Lindsey imitated Andy, her voice high, "Oh Sam, dinner was soooooo good. You're such an amazing cook."

Sam laughed at the impression. "She does not do that," he feebly denied.

"Yes she does," Lindsey said. "And she told me that she thinks you're handsome."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Really?" he asked, part hopeful, part disbelieving.

"Well, no," Lindsey admitted sheepishly. "But I'm sure she thinks you are."

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. "You're crazy," he teased, affectionately ruffling his niece's hair as he stood from the table.

Lindsey quickly fixed her hair, shooting him an annoyed look as he refilled his coffee mug. His cell phone rang and he reached for it, checking the caller I.D. "Guess who it is?"

"Andy?" Lindsey said hopefully.

He nodded and then answered the call with a typical gruff greeting. Lindsey's eye widened as she listened to her uncle's conversation and when he finally hung up, she looked at him expectantly.

"Well, Lindsey," he said, tossing the phone back on to the counter, "Andy's going to come over to carve pumpkins." 

Lindsey's eyes lit up. "She is?"

"Yep, she is,' he confirmed. He paused a beat and then lowered the boom, informing her, "So is Luke."

The drastic change in Lindsey's countenance would have been humorous to Sam if he didn't share her dismay. Her smile vanished, her eyes darkened and her face pinched. "What?" She groaned dramatically, flinging her arms out and dropping her head to the table. "Nooooooo!"

Sam passively took a sip of his coffee, refusing to indulge his niece's hysterics.

"Why did you say he could come over?" Lindsey asked, her forehead resting against the table.

It was a good question, one he had asked himself as soon as he heard himself agree to it. "I'm not sure," he answered honestly. After realizing what he had done, he couldn't say he was happy about the idea of having the detective in his home and around his niece.

Lindsey heaved a deep sigh. "This cannot be happening," she moaned, banging her head against the table.

"Cut that out, you're going to give yourself a headache," Sam said, sliding his hand under Lindsey's forehead and lifting it off the table, forcing her to look at him. "It won't be that bad," he promised, not entirely believing himself.

"Yes it will be," Lindsey insisted. "It's going to be the worst thing ever."

"Okay," Sam said, rolling his eyes. "Now you're just being silly. We're carving pumpkins, not going off to war. It's going to be fine."

"That's what you think," Lindsey sneered, taking an angry, aggressive bite of her cereal and chewing loudly.

"It's your fault you know," Sam told her.

"My fault?" She squeaked. "How is this my fault?"

"You're the one that told him about it."

Lindsey groaned again. "I just can't believe this."

"Hey, listen to me. Ground rules," Sam said, pointing his finger at his niece. He waited until he had her full attention. "You will be nice and respectful to him, understand me?"

"Why do I have to be nice to him?"

"Because," Sam reasoned, "Sometimes you have to be nice to people you don't like."

"You don't like him," Lindsey responded, "Are you going to be nice to him?"

Sam's mouth opened, getting ready to respond, but then it closed. He thought for a moment and it opened again, "I'm an adult. And it's my house."

"So that means he's your guest," Lindsey informed him. "Even more of a reason to be nice to him."

"Well," Sam stammered, admitting reluctantly, "That's true."

Lindsey thought it over and decided, "If I have to be nice to him, you have to be nice to him."

Sam eyed his niece. "How about this?" he suggested, "You don't have to be nice to him but you can't be rude to him."

"Deal," Lindsey accepted with a grin.

"Good. Now, get your coat," Sam instructed, downing the last of his coffee, "We've got to go get these stupid pumpkins."

Two hours later there was a knock at the front door and as Lindsey rushed to open it, Sam once again reminded her not to be rude.

"I know, I know," she muttered. Plastering on a big grin, she threw the door open. "Hi!"

"Hey Lindsey," Andy said, smiling widely. She glanced at Luke anxiously, signaling for him to acknowledge the young girl.

"Lindsey," Luke said, tipping his head. "Good to see you again."

A flash of a smirk crossed Lindsey's face but when she felt Sam come to stand behind her, it transformed into an exaggerated grin. "I'm so glad you could _both_ come over," she said. Sam nudged her and she shot him an irritable look before turning back to their guests. "Come on in," she said, opening the door wider so the couple could slip into the foyer.

The tension in the small room was palpable and the nervous churning Andy felt in her stomach became stronger, especially when Luke slung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him possessively. It felt like they were in a silent staring contest; Andy and Luke on one side of the small room and Lindsey and Sam on the other.

Sam read Andy's uncomfortable expression and, with a little encouragement in the form of Lindsey elbowing him in the stomach, finally extended his hand. "Callaghan."

Luke released Andy and gripped Sam's hand with deliberate, unnecessary strength. "Sammy," he replied.

The muscle in Sam's jaw twitched at the nickname, but he didn't comment on it. Instead he put his hand on Lindsey's shoulder and suggested, "Lindsey, why don't you take them outside?"

"Come on, my uncle said we had to go to the back porch," Lindsey said, waving her hand and ushering them through the house. She looked over her shoulder and explained with a wry grin, "He's afraid we're going to get pumpkin guts all over the house."

Andy winked and shared a knowing smile with Lindsey before the girl faced forward again, leading them through the living room. When Andy saw the puzzled look on Luke's face, she quietly let him in on the inside joke, "Sam's a little bit of a neat freak."

"Ah, gotcha," Luke replied, his chest tightening at the noticeable familiarity between Andy and the Swareks.

Lindsey slid open the porch door and they all stepped out onto the back porch. It was an unusually beautiful fall day; the air was crisp but just warm enough not to need a jacket and the sun was high, unobscured by the few white, fluffy clouds that hung in the brilliant blue sky.

Andy chuckled when she saw that the floor had been outlined with newspaper. "I tried to get the best pumpkins they had," Lindsey told them, gesturing to the four pumpkins that sat on the small outdoor table, "But there wasn't much of a selection and _someone _wouldn't go to another farmer's market." She pointedly looked towards her uncle, her lips pursing in frustration over the fact that he didn't take picking out pumpkins as seriously as she did.

Sam just shrugged, unconcerned with his niece's exasperation with him, and Andy thought that the fact that Lindsey had been able to convince Sam to go to even one farmer's market was impressive enough. She couldn't imagine that the idea or desire to carve pumpkins had ever even crossed Sam's mind.

"These are great Lindsey," Andy assured her. "Thank you for getting them for us."

Lindsey nodded and picked up a perfectly plump, round and smooth pumpkin. "Here's your pumpkin, Andy," she said, handing it over. Then she picked up a tall, skinny pumpkin with a big knot on the side. "And here's yours, Luke."

The difference between the two pumpkins was stark and as Luke accepted his pumpkin from Lindsey he let out a short, ironic burst of laughter. Lindsey looked at him curiously, intentionally oblivious to the reason for his laughter, and he clamped his mouth shut.

When she saw the misfit pumpkin Lindsey had picked out for Luke, Andy suppressed an amused smile, glancing over at Sam who was leaning against the back of the house, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He cut his eyes over to her and his lips curled into a small grin as he acknowledged the not-so-subtle undertone of Lindsey's choice. He shook his head slightly, almost imperceptibly, in an unspoken apology for his niece.

Lindsey pointed out the various tools and knives that she had gathered to carve the pumpkins and they all got settled in, sitting cross-legged on the newspaper-covered tile. After the forced, polite conversation had passed, a tense silence settled over the group, no one really knowing what to say to the others. It wasn't "the worst thing ever", as Lindsey had predicted it would be, but it was undeniably uncomfortable. Andy tried as best she could to bring up topics to talk about, but Luke seemed to be growing more and more agitated, Sam had reverted to his monotone, indifferent self and Lindsey was absorbed with meticulously tracing a sketch onto her pumpkin.

After one particularly inane attempt at conversation, Sam glanced up at Andy, amusement dancing in his brown eyes. She caught his gaze and narrowed her eyes, suddenly overcome with the desire to hit him for taking pleasure in her obvious discomfort.

He excused himself not long afterwards to grab some paper towels and Andy quickly got to her feet, following him inside. She caught up with him in the kitchen and, with her hands on her hips, said, "Could you be any less helpful?"

He turned to her and innocently asked, "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about," she said, "I'm out there, trying to get everyone to talk because I know this is weird and awkward…"

He interrupted her. "You know, you're the one that's making it awkward."

Andy's jaw dropped. "I'm doing everything I can just to make it feel even a little bit normal," she argued, pinching her fingers together for emphasis. She sighed and dropped her head into her hands. "This was such a mistake. I knew it, we should have never come…"

"Would you calm down?" he asked, his fingers encircling her wrists to pull her hands away from her face.

"Why did you say yes to this?" She hissed, pulling her hands from his grip.

Sam's eyebrows shot up, "What? You're the one that asked if he could come over!"

"You were supposed to say no!" She replied. "You don't even like him, I never thought you would agree to it!"

Sam stared at her, dumbfounded. "I agreed to it because you asked, Andy," he answered simply. "Why did you invite him if you didn't want him to come?"

Andy groaned and leaned back against the counter. "I didn't invite him," she mumbled miserably. "It was his idea." She wished she had trusted her instincts, hadn't given into the pressure Luke had put on her to ask Sam if they both could come over.

Sam was quiet, letting her words sink in. "What?"

She sighed heavily and crossed her arms in front of her, looking at the ground. "He thought it would be a good idea to get to know Lindsey."

Sam moved to stand in front of her. "Why?" he asked, confused and more than a little skeptical.

She shrugged. "He's making an effort to be more involved in my life," she said, not completely understanding his reasoning herself.

"That's…" Sam struggled for a word. "Good."

"Yeah," she agreed, trying to convince herself it was what she wanted. "It is. I guess."

"Look," he said, reaching out to place a hand on her upper arm in a comforting, reassuring gesture, "I wasn't raised by wolves, okay? I can be civil to the guy."

"I know," she nodded.

Sam grinned a little, lightening the mood. "I can't make any promises about Lindsey though."

Andy laughed. "I think she's made her feelings perfectly clear. That was the ugliest pumpkin I've ever seen."

"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention when she picked them out," Sam admitted.

"And here I thought you were all about the pumpkin carving," Andy teased with mock surprise.

Sam chuckled and shook his head. "No, Lindsey is all about the pumpkin carving. It's a tradition apparently." He glanced away from her and a faraway look passed through his eye. When she caught his gaze again he gave her a small smile. "She can be very insistent when she wants to be."

Someone coughed, clearing their throat, and they both turned to look towards the entrance of the kitchen. Luke was standing there, scowling and glaring at them with accusation in his eyes. She didn't understand why he seemed so upset but Sam's hand immediately dropped from her arm and he took a step back, away from her. Andy hadn't even realized they had been standing as close as they were and when she did she cursed under her breath, knowing how it looked and the assumptions Luke would jump to.

"I'm just going to go supervise Lindsey, make sure she doesn't cut anything off," Sam told them evenly, his voice unaffected by the obvious tension of the situation. With a slight nod, he grabbed the paper towels he had originally come for and walked out of the kitchen, brushing passed Luke who made no attempt to move out of his way.

Andy took a deep breath and looked up at Luke. "Whatever you're thinking, please… just don't."

Luke arched an eyebrow. "What am I thinking?"

Andy sighed again, closing her eyes. "Luke…"

"Certainly I'm not thinking that my girlfriend is in here cozying up with another man."

Her eyes snapped open. "Excuse me?"

"That was a very comfortable little scene I just walked into," Luke said.

"Don't be like that Luke, I just came in here to make sure everything was okay."

"Why would everything not be okay?"

Andy groaned, wondering why he was being so purposefully difficult. "Because you and Sam don't like each other Luke. You've both made that perfectly clear. I just wanted to make sure he was okay with you being here."

Luke's jaw tensed. "And you had to be touching each other to make sure he was okay?"

"No, that's not…" Andy paused and regrouped. "I know it's a lot to ask, but can you please just trust me that it was perfectly innocent? We were just talking."

Luke rubbed his hand over his jaw, taking a moment to think. "Fine," he agreed. He could always bring it up later, when they got home.

"Yeah?" Andy looked at him hopefully.

Luke nodded sharply.

"Can we go back outside now?" She smiled and held out her hand, telling him, "So far my jack-o'-lantern only has eyes. I think he'd appreciate the rest of his face."

Luke took Andy's hand and he begrudgingly allowed her to lead him out of the kitchen and through the living room.

They both stopped in their tracks at the scene they saw through the glass patio door. Lindsey and Sam were facing one another, obviously in some kind of heated argument. Lindsey stood with her hands on her hips, yelling something at her uncle and Sam was pressing his fingers to his forehead. When she was finished he threw his arms out, saying something in response, and Lindsey's eyes widened until they were huge and filled with anger.

"I wonder what's going on," Luke muttered.

"I have no idea," Andy replied slowly, worriedly, her eyes glued in front of her. "Did she say something when I was gone?"

Luke just shook his head. Andy's grip on his hand tightened as Lindsey bent down to pick up her pumpkin. Before Sam could reach out and stop her, she lifted it high above her head and then smashed it to the ground, sending pieces of orange rind and flesh all over the porch. Sam recoiled automatically, stepping backwards and clenching his fists at his side, physically reigning in his temper.

Andy let out an audible gasp and she sprang forward, sliding open the glass door. "Lindsey!" she exclaimed. "What in the world going on?"

The young girl turned to her and Andy could see that she had angry tears in her eyes. "Nothing," Lindsey said, stomping passed her into the house.

Andy watched her go and then turned back to Sam. Anger, frustration and concern were playing across his features, fighting for dominance.

"What happened?" she asked, bewildered.

He looked at her, hard, wanting to tell her, but then his eyes flickered over to Luke who had stepped out onto the porch. Andy watched as his face became stoic, expressionless. He cleared his throat and then knelt to pick up the pieces of the broken pumpkin. "Nothing," he replied, echoing his niece's answer.

Andy bent down to help him, but he held his hand out. "I've got it," he said. "I'm sorry, why don't you guys just go home? You can take your pumpkins if you want."

Andy stared at him a moment and then turned to Luke, "Can you just give us a minute?" she asked quietly, pleadingly.

Luke pursed his lips, irritated and not at all happy about the prospect of leaving the two of them alone, but he nodded his head. "Sure," he replied. "I'll just go back to your house."

She granted him a small, thankful smile, grateful he hadn't made an issue of her staying. "I'll be right there," she promised.

Luke stepped back into the house, closing the door behind him, and Andy knelt down beside Sam. "What happened?" she asked, again.

"She's just upset."

"Is it Luke?" she asked, trying to pull more information from him.

Sam sighed and dropped his head. "No, she's mad at me," he explained without elaborating. "I'm sorry you guys saw that."

He sounded embarrassed and Andy's brow furrowed, disconcerted. "Don't be sorry," she said, "It's fine. Do you want me to go talk to her?"

Sam shook his head, "No, she just needs some time I think. It was just... Too much."

Andy nodded slowly even though she didn't really understand. Lindsey had been fine when she left, following Sam into the kitchen. Not ten minutes later she was yelling and throwing things. "Sam…"

He looked up at her and she could see the walls that had been slowly torn down being built right back up. "Just go home Andy," he said, "You were right, this was a mistake."

"Sam," she repeated.

He stood, facing her. His tone was firm but not rude. "Just go home," he urged, "Please."

Andy blinked, taking in his resignation. She knew she wasn't going to get anything out of him, knew he wasn't going to confide in her. "Okay," she said, agreeing even though she knew it wasn't really a choice. "If there's something I can do…"

Sam nodded. "I'll let you know," he promised. He opened the glass door, ushering her through it.

Andy didn't want to go, didn't want to leave things the way they were, but with a final glance at Sam and the messy porch, she stepped back into the house and made her way out.

Luke sat in a chair in Andy's living room and drummed his fingers against the armrest rhythmically, gathering his thoughts, piecing together what he'd learned that afternoon.

He hadn't given his girlfriend's burgeoning friendship with the man much thought to begin with. In all honesty, it made things easier on him… he wasn't met with pouts and arguments when he said he had to work late anymore and he wasn't questioned when he cancelled their plans. It wasn't until Jo had mentioned that Sam was asking around about Andy's training officer that Luke had started really paying attention to the amount of time Andy spent with them. He'd started asking her questions about it here and there but she'd insisted that she was really just trying to be there for Lindsey. When he'd asked specifics about why Lindsey was living with Sam, Andy told him what he already knew; that Lindsey's mother had died and that Sam had custody now. He'd pressed for more information she'd tensed up and replied that it wasn't her place to tell him.

That had really pissed him off, the fact that Andy and Sam shared something that she wouldn't share with him. It wasn't right. He'd told her how he felt about it, but she'd simply and firmly held her ground, refusing to tell him any more.

When the opportunity presented itself to spend time with them, Luke couldn't resist. Their time at Swarek's house did little to quell his fears about his girlfriend's relationship with them. The more Andy tried to get them to talk the more irritated Luke had gotten, wondering why it was so important to her that they all got along. He knew that part of it was just her personality; Andy was a peacemaker and craved harmony in her life. That part was understandable, but it was the way she had been so anxious, so unable to just relax, that had really thrown Luke. As if she was desperate that they accepted one another. Or, more specifically, desperate that _they_ accepted _him_. As if he had to fit into the life she'd created with them rather than the other way around.

If it was up to Luke, that was never going to happen. Truth be told, he detested Sam Swarek and didn't really understand why Andy enjoyed being around Lindsey so much. She seemed like a rude, sarcastic teenager to him.

When he found Andy in the kitchen with Sam and then later when he'd followed her out onto the porch after the argument, he'd realized with startling, certain clarity just how close she had become to the man, how emotionally invested she was in him and his niece. It was not the innocent friendship she'd lead him to believe they shared and she certainly wasn't just in it for Lindsey's sake. He'd seen it in Sam's eyes too; the man was open and vulnerable when it was just Andy but as soon as Luke made his presence known he'd become guarded, closed off.

It didn't take a detective to recognize the familiar, even intimate, connection between the two.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sounds of the front door opening and he heard the click of Andy's shoes against the wooden floor as she moved through the house to join him in the living room.

She slumped onto the sofa, letting out a heavy sigh before reaching down to remove her boots.

Luke regarded her carefully. She seemed tired, drained. He almost regretted what he was about to do. "So," he said, "Are you sleeping with him?"

Andy froze and then slowly lifted her head, blindsided by the accusation. "Excuse me?"

"With Swarek," Luke clarified. "Are you sleeping with him?"

She blinked. "Why would you ask me that?"

"Oh come on Andy," he spat as he stood up, suddenly irate, "I'm not blind. There is something going on, something you're not telling me!"

"No, I'm not sleeping with him!" She replied, getting to her feet to face him fully, their argument quickly escalating. "How dare you even suggest something like that?"

"So you're telling me there's nothing going on?"

"Yes," she hissed, "There is nothing going on."

"You and Sam seemed awfully close for two people that aren't sleeping together."

"We're _friends_," She insisted, yelling, "God, how many do I have to tell you that?"

"Sam Swarek does not want to just be friends with you Andy," he yelled back, "Its obvious he wants you to fulfill some weird wife and mother role and you seem more than happy to be playing house!"

"You cannot be serious," Andy replied. "That is absolutely absurd."

"Oh really? How many times have you babysat for him?"

"Lindsey doesn't need a babysitter, Luke," Andy said, avoiding the question, "She's twelve."

"Well how many times have you stayed with her when Sam's not there?" He rephrased, not dropping the point.

She swallowed hard and then admitted, "Four times."

"And how many times has he paid you?"

"You are being ridiculous," she claimed, folding her arms over her chest.

"How many?" He persisted.

"Never, but he's offered…" Andy tried to explain, but he cut her off.

"Of course he offered," Luke exclaimed, flinging his arms out, "He knew you would say no!"

Andy took a deep breath, trying to calm the anger that was rising in her chest. "I have a job, Luke, I think I can manage without the thirty bucks of babysitting money I'd get." Not to mention the fact that Sam regularly fed her. "Besides, I actually like Lindsey and I enjoy hanging out with her. It's not like it's a burden to spend time with her."

"She's _twelve_, Andy."

"She's _special_, Luke," Andy retorted, a bite to her words. "And she needs me."

"You are not her mother!" Luke yelled.

"No, I'm not," Andy replied with equal volume, "But her mother is dead!"

"I know that, trust me, you've made it very clear."

"Well, you don't seem to get it!" she shouted. "Why are you fighting me about this? Why can't you just trust me?"

"Because I saw you with him and everything in my gut is telling me that there's more there than just friendship!"

"And you don't think that I wonder about you and Jo?"

He looked at her, his expression truly perplexed, "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Everything in me tells me that something's not right, that you still have feelings for her. Other people say the same thing," Andy responded, pointing at him, "But I've trusted you when you tell me that you don't. I trust you to be around her, to spend hours and hours with her every single day."

"Well, I don't trust you that much!" He responded, the words slipping out before he could censor himself.

Andy let out a short, indignant huff and then set her jaw. "What are you trying to say?"

He hesitated. "I don't want you going over there any more."

"That's not fair," she said, looking down at the ground. "I can't believe you'd even ask me that."

"I'm not comfortable with it, Andy."

Her gaze rose to meet his and she fixed him with a hard look. "You can't seriously be forbidding me to see them."

Luke shrugged, letting his silence speak for him.

She bit her lowered lip and shook her head. "Well, I'm not going to agree to that."

"As much as you think they do, they don't _need_ you Andy. They'll be fine without you."

His words were hurtful, cutting her deep. "I know they would be," she replied honestly. "But this isn't about that now. It's about you and me." She took a deep breath, finding sudden clarity in the rush of air she took in. "I don't want to be with you if you can't trust me."

Luke stared at her in disbelief. "You're serious?"

She nodded, determined. "I've tried so hard to make this work, told myself that it was okay that you always, always chose work over me, made excuses when you weren't there for me when I needed you, didn't listen when people tried to warn me about you…" she trailed off, shaking her head sadly, "It's not worth it."

He chuckled humorlessly, not hearing or accepting her reasons, "You're breaking up with me, _for them_?"

"No," she replied, her chin high, "Not for them."

"But you are breaking up with me?"

She nodded again.

His lips settled into a tight line and he grabbed his coat. "If I walk out that door, it's over," he challenged.

Andy's eyes locked with his and an unexpected lump formed in her throat. She swallowed, pushing it back, and told him, "I think you need to go."


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: Yay! I'm glad that Luke is gone too! I really enjoyed reading some of the comments about him and the varied range of emotions expressed about his character. Thank you so much for taking the time to give me your reactions to the last chapter!

Disclaimer: (Is this really necessary?) I do not own Rookie Blue.

* * *

><p>The day after her break up with Luke, Andy walked home feeling lighter than she had in ages. Or, at least, the last four or five months. She supposed she should be more upset and part of her even wanted to feel sad, as if the ache that came along with that sadness would somehow validate her relationship with Luke. As if it would be evidence that they had actually meant something to each other beyond a warm body to snuggle up next to every once and awhile.<p>

She wanted to feel those emotions that typically came along with a break up, but she didn't. Instead she felt… calmed. Relieved. Relieved she didn't have to fit into Luke's self-inflicted crazy work schedule anymore, relieved she didn't have to defend their relationship to her friends anymore, and relieved that she just didn't have to try so hard anymore to make something work that obviously wasn't.

Work had even been good; her training officer had apparently decided to try and start acting like a decent human being in the last couple of weeks. It wasn't a drastic change but instead of leaving everyday feeling like an incompetent failure, she left with a renewed sense of optimism, hopeful that she could actually be the kind of police officer she strived to be.

The pressures that had been on her shoulders – the difficult work situation, the draining relationship – were finally eased.

When she neared her home she saw Sam sitting on her front steps. She hadn't given much thought to how she was going to tell him that she had broken up with Luke, but delightful shivers tingled her skin as she briefly allowed herself to consider the implications of her break up, the possibilities that were opened for her and Sam. An unexpected swarm of butterflies took up residence in her stomach as she approached the steps, a wide smile on her face.

"Hey," she called out, casually striding up to him. "What's up?"

He didn't acknowledge her right away, instead choosing to stare at the ground for an extra second. She noticed he was fidgeting with his wristwatch, a habit of his when he was anxious, and when he finally glanced up at her the pleasant flutters in her stomach turned to stone, her heart dropping at the look in his eye.

"Hey," he responded, getting to his feet. His tone was void of the warmth she had come to expect from him and his eyes lacked their usual mischievous sparkle.

"Is something wrong?" She asked immediately, her mind racing with possibilities.

"I, uh," he paused to clear his throat, covering his mouth with his fist. "I wanted to talk to you about yesterday."

"Oh," she replied, relieved that it wasn't something more serious. "Is Lindsey okay? I was going to come by later and see her."

Sam ran his hand through his hair and scratched at the base of his head as he answered, "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." He took a deep breath and then stared her straight in the eye. "I think it would be best if you stopped coming over."

His request caught her off guard and it took her a moment to respond. When she did, she could barely stammer out, "What?"

"Lindsey's getting too attached to you," Sam explained, "I should have realized what was going on but…" he broke off, shaking his head and shrugging.

"Too attached?" She repeated, confused. "Sam, what are you talking about?"

"Yesterday, the little fight you saw?" She nodded, prodding him to continue, "It started because she was mad about Luke being there, taking your attention and it ended with her yelling that you were going to leave and forget all about us."

She tried to interrupt. "If this is about Luke…"

He cut her off. "It's not about Luke. And it's not even really about you. It's about Lindsey getting too close to someone who's not always going to be there. I don't think she can handle getting hurt again."

Andy didn't try and conceal the emotions that played on her face as his words settled in. "What makes you think I'm going to hurt her?"

He sighed, pained by the distress in her eyes. After Lindsey had blown up at him the day before he'd sat outside for at least an hour trying to figure out what had caused her outburst and what he could have possibly done to prevent it. He knew that her words weren't just angry; there was real, genuine fear there. Fear of being deeply hurt. Fear of losing someone she cared about. He didn't realize just how attached to Andy Lindsey had become in the few short months until right then.

He'd wrestled with the decision to talk to Andy the entire night, knowing that she probably wasn't going to understand he reasoning and that he wasn't going to be able to explain it to her satisfaction. He didn't even necessarily understand but he knew that the closer Lindsey became to Andy the more it would devastate her when Andy wasn't around anymore.

Hurting Andy was one of the last things that he wanted to do, but he knew that he had to put his niece's needs before his own wants.

Sam looked at Andy, telling her sincerely, "I know that you would never intentionally do anything to hurt her. But one day, sooner or later, you're going to go off and you're going to start your own family and whether you mean to or not, Lindsey's going to get left behind."

The breath left Andy's lungs in a sharp whoosh. "That's not fair," she protested. "I can't predict what's going to happen and neither can you."

"I know that," he admitted. "I know. But it's my job to protect her. I should have been more careful about who I let around her."

"You can't protect her from everything that could possibly hurt her."

"No," he tilted his head and squinted. "But I can try."

"So your solution is what? Just to cut all contact?"

He shrugged, remaining silent.

"And you don't think that's going to hurt her?"

"I know it will," he confessed, "But it's better now than later, when she's grown even closer to you."

She folded her arms over her chest and looked down to the ground. "So, if I see her on the street, am I allowed to say hello?"

"Andy…"

Her chin jutted out and she continued, "If I'm walking home and her bus passes by, can I wave?"

"Don't be like this." He pleaded quietly.

"Like what? Offended? Angry? Hurt?" she yelled. She knew she was being unreasonable, but her emotions were clouding her ability to be logical. "Because I am, Sam. I am. You have no right…"

"I do have the right," he argued, his voice eerily calm. "I'm her guardian, I'm responsible for her wellbeing."

Andy narrowed her eyes bitterly, "And you think that being around me is bad for her wellbeing?"

"No," he replied firmly, "I think that after going through what Lindsey's been through, getting attached to someone who will not always be around is bad for her wellbeing."

She let out a short, indignant huff and shook her head, looking anywhere but at him.

"It's not personal," Sam said almost guiltily, grasping at anything that might assuage her justified anger.

Her eyes swung to meet his and she glared at him. "Of course it's personal, Sam. Don't give me that crap."

There was a long stretch of silence and she held his gaze intensely, challenging him. "Please try to understand where I'm coming from," he said after a moment, breaking the quiet. "You're not her mom or her aunt and you're not my girlfriend or my wife and that's what she's expecting you to be. Those are the relationships she understands."

"I know I'm not any of that but…" Andy threw her hands up, helpless, "I'm her friend, isn't that enough?"

Sam winced at desperation in her voice. "I wish it was, but her world is incredibly messed up right now and nothing makes sense," he said. "She's having trouble making the distinction between how things are and how she thinks things should be."

Andy stared at the ground and she worried her bottom lip, contemplating what he was saying, trying to understand. "I think you're underestimating her."

"Maybe I am," he acknowledged. "Look, Andy, I know that I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm just trying to do what I think is best," he told her earnestly.

Andy took a deep breath. "And you think this is best?" He nodded. "For Lindsey?" Sam nodded again, his mouth twisting to the side.

He stubbed his toe against a step a couple of times, exhaling heavily. He wished there was some way he could make her understand that his decision wasn't one he reached easily and that it honestly had nothing to do with her as a person. Selfishly, he wanted her around all the time but he knew it wasn't fair to put that expectation on her.

She didn't say anything for a long moment, her expression searching and pensive. "Okay," she finally spoke, almost too softly for him to hear.

He bent his knees to make eye contact with her. "Okay?"

"Well I'm not going to force you to let me see her." Her shoulders dropped and she frowned. "You have to do what you think is right. I don't agree with you, but I think I understand."

"Andy," his mouth gaped open. "I'm sorry."

She smiled sadly at him, resigned. "Yeah," she said, hiking her bag higher on her shoulder. "So am I."

At that she turned away from him, blinking furiously and willing herself not to cry as she climbed the steps to her house. She heard him call out her name again when she opened her door, but the sound died as she slammed it behind her.

She sagged back against the door and tried to gain control over her erratic breathing. As she sunk to the ground, she lost the fight and the tears began to fall.

The week that followed passed slowly. Andy went to work and came home, alone. She made dinner and sat on her sofa watching television, alone. She went to bed, alone. For a few days she craved that time and that space but her heart ached whenever she allowed herself to think of the people she would rather be spending her evenings with.

She hadn't realized how ingrained she had become into their lives until she wasn't invited anymore. She missed Lindsey's funny and surprisingly quick wit and she missed Sam's warmth. If someone told her two months earlier when she first met them that she would describe Sam as "warm" she probably would have laughed in their face, but when she thought about him, even in her anger, that's was the word that came to mind.

Finally, when she couldn't take the loneliness anymore, she called Traci and made plans to meet with her and the other rookies at the Penny.

Traci was there when she arrived and she greeted her friend with a hug, slumping into her outstretched arms. Traci rubbed her hand over Andy's back and when they pulled back she smiled sympathetically. "I'm so sorry about Luke," Traci said, assuming that was the reason for her friend's melancholy mood.

Andy just nodded and hopped up onto a barstool, not wanting to explain that it really had very little to do with Luke and far more to do with a certain dark-haired man and his equally dark-haired niece. Her lip curled into a half smile as she replied, "Thanks. I'm really okay though."

"Yeah," Traci nodded, "This is a good thing. You'll realize that eventually."

"Oh, I know," Andy assured the other woman. "It's just… hard."

"I know it is," Traci said, squeezing her friend's arm.

Chris and Dov arrived and made their way over to the table. When Andy told them she had broken up with the blonde detective a huge grin spread across Chris's face and he held his hand up for a high five. "Alright!" He exclaimed, not attempting to hide his joy. "About time!"

Andy couldn't help but laugh as she slapped his hand.

"This is excellent," Dov chimed in, climbing onto the stool next to her. "Now you and Swarek can date and get him out of the funk he's in."

Andy was taken back both by Dov's easy assumption that she and Sam would date and by his description of his training officer's state. Her brow furrowed and she asked, "Sam's in a funk?"

"Oh yeah, totally," Dov said, taking a long pull from his beer, "Today, we were interviewing this guy that's been supplying high school dealers and yes, okay, he was a real punk but I swear to god, I thought Swarek was literally going to eviscerate him and fillet his flesh." He paused and shook his head, "Guy's got some pent up rage, that's for sure."

Andy "hmmed" and leaned back in her seat. She wasn't sure if she should take satisfaction in the fact that Sam seemed to be as miserable as she was or if she should be concerned about him.

"Well, you see him sometimes, don't you, Andy?" Traci asked innocently. "Did you notice anything weird?"

Andy pursed her lips, shaking her head. "No," she said, "Nothing. But I haven't really seen him too much lately."

"I'm not surprised," Dov remarked. "He's probably been too busy looking for babies to eat for breakfast. Thank god he and Detective Barber are getting ready for court tomorrow, I won't have to see him." He held his bottle up to his lips and then pulled it back, "He did ask about you though, Andy."

It was a throwaway comment, one she was sure Dov didn't realize held as much meaning as it did.

"Me?" She squeaked, glancing around the table naively. "Why would he ask about me?"

Dov shrugged, blissfully unaware of the weight of his words. "I'm not sure. He just asked if I had seen you lately."

"What did you say?" She asked, trying to hide the anxiousness in her voice.

He finished his sip of beer and answered plainly, "That I hadn't seen you."

"Oh," Andy said, settling back down. Her friends were looking at her curiously and she could tell they were getting ready to ask her questions she didn't want to answer, so she grinned and tried to change the subject, "Enough about Swarek," she said, remembering to call him by his last name even though it sounded strange to her ears. She set her attention on Chris and waggled her eyebrows, "I hear someone's been hooking up with the ice princess."

Chris's cheeks burned red as he tried to suppress a guilty grin. "I don't know what you're talking about," he claimed.

"Don't even try and deny it, man," Dov said, backhanding his friend on the arm, "The walls are thin."

Chris blanched. "You can hear us?" he asked, horrified, as if he'd never considered the possibility.

"Not when I put my headphones in and cover my head with a pillow."

Chris groaned and Andy laughed as Traci and Dov continued to rag him about Gail, happy for the distraction and the pleasant numbing that came from the continuous string of drinks she consumed.

She was successfully able to push all thoughts of Sam Swarek out of her head until the taxi she had taken home pulled up in front of her house.

In preparation for the day ahead, Sam had already brought their garbage bins around to the sidewalk. Both cans sat there, side by side, as they had every Wednesday since he first started doing little chores for her. She stepped out of the cab and gawked at the inanimate objects, irrationally infuriated by their presence and the pretense that nothing had changed.

Emboldened by the alcohol in her system, she marched up the short staircase that led to his house and knocked furiously on the door.

It took a moment for someone to answer and when Sam finally threw the door open, his expression was less than pleased. "What the hell, McNally?" he said as a welcome. "You trying to wake up the entire neighborhood?"

She ignored his question and pointed down to the sidewalk. "Stop doing that," she ordered.

He looked at her blankly. "What?"

"That," she repeated, pointing again at the trash cans. "Stop doing stuff for me."

"You're mad because I put your trash out?" He asked dubiously.

"Yes," she hissed, slightly slurring the end of the word.

Sam narrowed his eyes, studying her intently. Her nose and cheeks were flushed from the cold but her eyes were red too, bloodshot and bleary. He stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind him. "Are you drunk?" He asked, placing both of his hands on her shoulders as if to steady her.

She twisted herself out of his grasp. "No. Maybe. A little bit," she stammered. She took a deep breath and then informed him petulantly, "It's none of your damn business if I am."

"Okay," he accepted, blinking with surprise by her uncharacteristic language.

"And don't talk to my friends about me," she continued, rambling on. "I'm none of your damn business either."

"Andy…"

"No!" She ranted, extended her hands and attempting to push him back. "This… this… separation or whatever the hell you want to call it, this was your decision, you have to live with it."

He grabbed her wrists and pushed her hands down, stopping her from hitting him again. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Well I'm fine," she spat, "Just fine."

"Clearly," he responded sarcastically.

Andy scowled. "What about you?" She asked. "Dov said you've been eating babies."

"Babies?" he asked, his eyebrows drawing together with alarm. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means you've been in a rotten, nasty mood," she explained, pointing at him.

"I usually am."

She clicked her tongue, irritated by his passiveness. "More so than normal."

"Well, Epstein's been particularly stupid lately," Sam replied, not admitting to anything.

Andy let out a long, disgusted sigh and shook her head. "Whatever."

"You're articulate when you drink," he observed.

"Oh, screw you."

"Wow," he drawled. "Way to prove my point."

"Shut up," she shot back. She fixed him with a look that made goosebumps prickle his skin. "Do not do nice things for me and do not ask people about me. If someone says something about me, pretend like you don't even know me." She stepped closer to him, close enough that he could smell the alcohol on her breath, and poked her finger into his chest, punctuating each syllable, "Just leave me alone."

"Fine," he said.

His agreement caught her off guard but she quickly recovered. "Fine!" she yelled back, spinning on her heel to make her way over to her house.

"Use the hand rail!" he called after her.

"Make me!" She threw her arms up in the air and left them raised as she continued down the steps and then up her own, purposely doing the exact opposite of what he asked just to piss him off.

He sighed as he watched her go and waited until she was safely inside her house before reentering his. He closed the door and then turned around to find Lindsey glaring at him, obviously having overheard the conversation that had taken place on the front porch. "I hope you're happy." she said. Before he could reply she turned and stomped up to her room.

Sam sighed again and brought his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose, trying to stop the headache that was forming. He heard Lindsey's door slam shut and he dropped his head, groaning.

His niece had made her feelings regarding Sam's responsibility for Andy's recent absence well-known. He'd tried to explain his reasoning but, as he had suspected, his excuses fell on deaf ears. Lindsey had been giving him a cold shoulder for the better part of the week and when she did deign to talk to him, her words were either monosyllabic and empty or tinged with barely concealed contempt.

To say that things had been tense would be an understatement. He didn't blame her for being upset so he gritted his teeth and hoped the phase would pass. Soon.

The following day, Sam knew he was going to have to work late so he gave Lindsey money to take a cab to the station after school. He was finishing up pulling together a case file for Jerry when she arrived, another uniformed officer escorting her back to the detective's office. "Hey Lindsey," he said, standing up from the desk to greet her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, hugging her to him, and she rolled her eyes as he kissed the top of her head. "Just a couple more minutes and I'll be done, okay?"

"Whatever," she mumbled, dropping her heavy book bag to the ground. "I'm going to get something to eat."

"Do you need some change?" he asked her retreating form. She didn't bother to answer him as she walked off and turned down the hallway, out of view. Sam watched her go and then exhaled heavily as he sat down and wheeled his chair back under the desk.

"She's cheery," Jerry said, his head bent over a file that was spread out on his desk.

Sam cut his eyes over to his friend. "She's mad at me."

"Could have guessed that one," Jerry replied, not looking up. He didn't ask for more information and Sam didn't want to give it, preferring instead to quickly finish his work so he and Lindsey could go home. He stapled a stack of papers together and slid them into a manila folder before handing it over to Jerry.

"Here you go, man, I've gone over it three times, everything's there. Accident report, witness testimony, mechanic's report," he tapped the top of the folder, "It's all in there."

"Thanks," Jerry said, taking it from him and flipping through the pages. "I think that's it then. We're ready to go for tomorrow."

Sam nodded and leaned back, stretching his arms over his head. "How many days do you think it's going to take?"

Jerry tilted his head from side to side. "Two," he answered, "Maybe three. The prosecutor seems to be pretty confident."

"Good, that's good," Sam mumbled, rubbing his hand over his eyes before getting to his feet. "Listen, tell Lindsey I'm just going to change, I'll be right back."

"No problem," Jerry assured him.

Sam got changed quickly and threw his stuff into his gym bag, hoisting it over his shoulder before he exited the locker room. When he arrived back at the desk to get Lindsey, he found her sitting in his previously occupied chair, fidgeting nervously and looking around with wide, expressive eyes. As soon as she saw him she jumped up and grabbed ahold of his coat sleeve, dragging him into hallway and huddling against the wall.

"Lindsey, what in the…?"

He question was cut off when she blurted out. "I saw him kissing someone else!"

He shook his head, not catching on. "Who?"

"Luke!" She exclaimed. "I saw him kissing someone in the break room!"

Sam groaned, "Lindsey…"

"I'm not making it up!" She insisted. "He was in there kissing some blonde woman!" She saw the recognition that flashed through his eyes and she looked at him accusatorily, "You know who she is, don't you?"

Sam stiffened and he glanced back into the detectives' office just in time to see Callaghan and Rosati return to their desks. They both had small, secretive smiles on their faces and looked quite pleased about something.

Lindsey followed his line of vision. "That's her!" she hissed, keeping her voice low.

"Did they see you?"

She shook her head frantically and her curly hair bounced to her shoulders and in front of her face. Pushing it aside so she could see him, she whispered, "No. They were too… busy… to notice me."

Fierce anger exploded in his chest and he muttered under his breath, "That mother fu…" he stopped himself before he finished the word, remembering that Lindsey was standing right beside him. He could practically hear Andy admonishing in his head.

"You can say it," Lindsey encouraged him, "It's not like I've never heard it before."

His eyes swung back to meet hers and even though his stare was intense, she could tell that he wasn't really seeing her and that his mind was elsewhere.

"Uncle Sam?" she said, waving her hand in front of his face.

The movement drew Sam from his daze and he cleared his throat, making a harsh guttural sound. Had Lindsey not been there he would have taken great pleasure in marching right back into the office and absolutely leveling Callaghan. He felt confident he could come up with a few choice words for Rosati as well. His fingers itched to be clenched into a fist and adrenaline surged through his body, propelling him forward.

He had to get out of there before he did something he knew he would get into serious, serious trouble for.

Instead of giving in to what he really wanted to do and heading back into the office, he put his hand on Lindsey's back and guided her out of the station, ignoring her protests until they were outside.

As if on auto-pilot, he opened the passenger's side door for her and helped her inside, essentially lifting her into the cab of the truck as she fought against him and demanded that he confront Luke. He made sure she was safely tucked into the seat and then swung the door closed before rounding the front of the truck and climbing in on his side. He stuck the key into the ignition but before he turned it over, he took a deep breath and looked over at his niece.

"Lindsey," he said, interrupting her very vocal hysterics. "Lindsey, I'm not going to go back in there."

"But you have to!" She yelled. "You have to do something!"

He shook his head firmly, "Lindsey, I believe you, I promise you that I do, but I am not going back in there."

Lindsey flung herself back into her seat and crossed her arms in front of her chest with a heavy, exasperated sigh. She stared straight out the window, ignoring her uncle.

Sam studied his niece for a moment and then started the engine and pulled out of the station. The ride home was filled with heavy, tense silence that pounded in his ears. As soon as they pulled into the driveway Lindsey threw her door open and shot out, sprinting towards Andy's house.

Sam threw the truck into park and then jumped out, following after Lindsey. "Where are you going?" He yelled, even though he had a pretty good idea.

"I'm going to tell Andy," she hollered back, not even bothering to turn around.

"No, you're not," he said, reaching her and grabbing onto her book bag to slow her down. At some point he was going to tell Andy what Lindsey had seen, he just needed time to think about the best way to handle the situation. He wasn't sure what that was yet, but he knew that it was NOT having Lindsey storm over there with the news. "This is none of our business Lindsey."

She spun around and looked at him with fire in her eyes. "It is our business, she's our friend."

"No, she's not. Not anymore." He remembered the night before, how Andy had drunkenly ranted that she wanted him out of her life.

"Maybe she's not _your_ friend but she's my friend and I'm going to tell her!" Lindsey declared, spinning around.

Sam caught her around the waist and hauled her back, lifting her off the ground.

"Put me down!" she cried indignantly, kicking her feet and struggling against him.

Sam easily carried her up the steps to their house and after he pushed the door open, he set her inside. "Go to your room," He instructed, pointing up the stairs.

Lindsey's eyes widened with outrage. "No!" she yelled, fighting against him once more as she tried to get out of the house. He stood his ground, physically blocking the front door, and she eventually gave up, her ferocious strength fueled by her anger giving out. With one final shove to his chest she yelled, "You can't do this!"

"Lindsey," he said, trying to keep control over his voice, "Just calm down."

She pushed away from him, moving into the foyer, and furious tears sprang into her eyes. "You're trying to ruin my life just like you ruined mom's!"

Sam froze immediately at words as crippling guilt pooled in his stomach. He forced himself to swallow hard, pushing the lump that had risen in his throat down in an effort to keep from becoming violently ill. "Lindsey…"

"I _HATE_ you!" She screamed, storming up the stairs to her room and slamming her door closed with such force that the pictures on the wall shook.

Sam stood at the base of the stairs, immobilized. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until his lungs began to burn and even then he had to tell his brain to let him breathe.

His knees gave out and he lowered himself down to the steps, his head falling into his hands. His body was shaking with anger and regret and shame and he forced himself to take slow, controlled breaths, willing his body and his emotions back into submission.

He could hear Lindsey sobbing in her room, but he couldn't summon the strength to go and comfort her. He was probably the last person that she wanted to see anyway.

Through the window he could see the sun setting and the rays of colored light that bounced between the buildings on the street. It wasn't until it was dark outside that he finally pushed himself up and off the stairs.

Lindsey didn't say a word to him for the rest of the night or the next morning as she got ready for school. Her hurtful words still rang in his ears and although he knew they were said in anger, in the heat of the moment, that knowledge did little to dull their sting.

After a terrible, nightmare-ridden sleep, Sam went through the motions of his morning, exhausted and numb. He showered but didn't feel clean and made coffee that he couldn't taste and that did nothing to ease the pounding in his head. Instead of fixing Lindsey's lunch like he usually did he scrimped together a couple of bills and handed them to her on her way out the door.

Lindsey took the money from his hand but wouldn't look at him. She was about to step out onto the porch when he realized he couldn't allow her out of the house with the way things were so he quickly enfolded her in his arms and whispered that he loved her.

He heard her take in a shaky, quivering breath but she remained silent, refusing to return the sentiment. He released her, letting her run to catch her bus.

Later that afternoon, Andy had been home from work for a little over an hour when someone began to furiously pound on her door. She rushed to open it and found Sam pacing on her porch.

"Is Lindsey here?"

"Yeah, I've got her locked in the back room." Andy rolled her eyes, not sensing the seriousness of his question. "No, she's not here."

He glanced back at her and she was finally able to get a good look at him. His eyes were cold and grave, his expression was stern and the muscle in his jaw was jumping erratically. She quickly realized that something was very, very wrong so she reached out and placed a hand on his arm. "Sam," she asked, her brow furrowing, "What's wrong?"

"Lindsey didn't come home from school today. She was supposed to be home," he checked his watch, "Almost two hours ago." Panic flooded Andy's eyes and he rushed to tell her, "I'm fairly certain she ran away."

She pushed the front door open further and beckoned him inside while asking, "Why would she run away?"

"We had a fight," he told her, stepping inside her house. "Another one." He licked his lips and then admitted, "She's pretty upset with me."

"Did you call the school?" Andy asked, closing the door behind him.

He nodded. "She was there for classes all day but she told her bus driver she was taking a taxi home, like she did yesterday. She must have forged a note or something," he thought out loud, trying to figure out the steps she had taken in his mind, as if it might give him some clue as to where she was.

"Did you call Oliver?" She suggested, "Maybe she went to the Shaw's house."

"I did, she's not there."

Andy ushered him through the house and they both sat down at her small kitchen table. "Did you call the cab company?"

"Do you know how many cab companies there are in Toronto?" He replied harshly. She blinked, chastised, and he hastily apologized, "I'm sorry. I called a few, no luck. I don't even know that that's what she really did."

"Okay," Andy paused, trying to push aside her anxiety and go into cop mode. "Well, did you call into the station?"

"It hasn't been twenty four hours, Andy,"

"Yeah, but…" her forehead scrunched, "It's you. I'm sure they would do something. Call Best or… or…" She racked her brain, trying to think of officers that her friends had mentioned, "Call Noelle. They'll understand."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he let out a long sigh. "Yeah," he said after a moment, "You're right." He pulled out his cellphone to make the call and at that exact moment, his ringtone filled the air.

A wave of sheer terror washed through Sam as he stared at the unknown number, suddenly fearing the absolute worst. His mouth went dry so he swallowed a couple of times before anxiously answering. "Hello? Yes, this is he." Andy held her breath, trying to fight the images that were running through her mind, until he flashed her a smile, letting her know that Lindsey was okay. "Okay. Okay," he nodded. "Of course. Thank you." He paused, listening to the person on the other end of the phone. He motioned for a pen and Andy quickly searched for one and handed it over. "I'm on my way," he said, scribbling an address on his hand.

He ended the call and dropped his head, letting out a choked sob of relief. Andy reached over and rubbed his back, patiently waiting for him to speak.

He finally lifted his head and looked at her. "She's in St. Catherine's," he said, standing up. "That was the mother of one of her friends there."

"She took a taxi all the way to St. Catherine's?" Andy asked, scrambling to her feet to follow after Sam.

"Guess so, I didn't ask." When he realized that Andy was shrugging her coat on he stared at her in disbelief and asked, "What are you doing?"

She stared back at him, her expression matching his. "You don't think I'm going to let you go alone do you?"

"It's fine, Andy," he insisted, moving towards the door. "I can handle it."

"Well, I might believe you if your niece hadn't just run away," she retorted, immediately regretting her words when she saw the way his shoulders slumped in defeat. Her hands flew to cover her mouth and she looked at him with wide eyes. "I'm so sorry," She apologized, "I didn't mean that."

He didn't look at her right away and but when he did her heart clenched, incredibly burdened for the man. "No," he said quietly, "No, you're right."

Andy shook her head, "No I'm not. I know you can do this, just…" she pleaded with him, "Just let me go with you. Let me help you."

"It's going to take almost two hours to get there," he weakly protested. "It'll be late when we get back."

"I don't care," she replied, determined. "Please. I want to go."

After a long stretch he nodded slowly and then allowed her to lead him out to his truck.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for the reviews on the last chapter! As always, it's such a pleasure to read through them, even those that weren't so thrilled with Sam :). Poor guy. Anyway, thank you for reading and taking the time to respond! I hope you enjoy this update!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.**

The ride was expectedly quiet. Andy could feel the tension and stress radiating off of Sam and she was desperate to know what he and his niece had fought about. She tried to tell herself that it was none of her business but curiosity and the desire to break the silence eventually got the best of her.

"So," she asked cautiously, peeking over at him, "Can I ask what the fight was about?"

Sam groaned. "Shit, Andy," he breathed out. "I was going to tell you I just…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "Forgot."

It wasn't exactly the response she was expecting. "Tell me what?"

"Lindsey came to the station yesterday, after school."

She nodded, "Okay."

He took a deep breath, choosing his words, and then finally told her, "Apparently she saw Callaghan kissing Rosati in the break room."

Andy's eyebrows shot up and she blinked, taking the information in. "Oh," she said, slouching back into her seat.

He glanced over at her dubiously, "Oh?" he repeated.

"Well, I mean, sure, it's a little soon but…" She shrugged and admitted, "I can't really say that I'm surprised."

His expression changed from skepticism to outrage. "Not surprised? Andy, your boyfriend was kissing someone else."

"Luke is not my boyfriend anymore," She informed him, enjoying the look of shock that crossed his features. "He can kiss whomever he wants to kiss."

He took his eyes off the road and looked over at her, "He's not?"

She shook her head. "No, he's not." He stared at her for a prolonged period of time, far longer than she was comfortable with. "Would you watch the road, please?" She huffed, throwing her hand out, "You're going to get us into an accident."

"No I'm not," he scoffed, but turned his attention back to the road in front of him. It was quiet for a moment and then he asked, "When?"

"The day of the disastrous pumpkin carving," she said, nervously fidgeting with the seatbelt across her lap. "About twenty minutes after I got home."

He stared at her again, dumbfounded.

She sighed, "Look Sam, if you're not going to pay attention to the road then let me drive."

"No way," he muttered.

"Well then stop looking at me like I have five heads," she replied, resting her elbow against the windowsill and leaning against her hand.

"I'm just trying to figure out why you didn't tell me that little piece of information."

Andy let out a short burst of indignant laughter. "Well, I was going to tell you but then you decided that I was a terrible human being who shouldn't be around your niece."

Sam was already shaking his head, disagreeing with her, "That's not even…"

"What?" She challenged.

His voice was quiet but intense when he answered, "You know that's not why."

"No, I'm pretty sure I don't," Andy snapped, feeling herself starting to get angry.

"Well then you obviously didn't listen to a word I said."

"You're right," she agreed sarcastically, "I probably blanked out after the suggestion that it would be psychologically damaging to be around me."

"Okay, now you're just making shit up," Sam claimed.

"Oh am I?" she questioned.

"I told you," he said, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel, "It had nothing to do with you as a person. I did what I thought was the right thing to do."

"Yeah and look how well that turned out for you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked sharply.

"It means that maybe if you hadn't decided to cut me out of your life, none of this would have happened!"

"You know what Andy? Why don't you just make a list of all the ways I've screwed up and then you can read it back to me," he suggested sullenly. "Do you think two hours will be enough time or should I go the long way?"

"Oh cut the pity party crap," she retorted, "It's incredibly unbecoming."

Sam snorted. "Well since my one goal in life is to impress you…"

She glared at him. "Why are you acting like this?"

"Like what?" he shot back.

"Like an asshole," she responded rapidly, not backing down.

"Well, I am an asshole, McNally," he admitted self-deprecatingly. "Thought you'd know that about me by now."

She sighed and looked down at her hands. "No you're not," she replied softly.

"What was that?" He cupped his hand around his ear. "What'd you say?"

His stubborn refusal to let his façade crack even the slightest bit infuriated her. "I said, 'no you're not'," Andy repeated herself, louder this time. "Maybe you want people to think you are, maybe it's easier that way," she ranted, her boldness growing with every word, "But the Sam Swarek that I thought I knew was kind and genuine and made me soup when he knew I'd had a bad day and walked me home late at night. He wasn't this," she waved her hands around at him, "This empty, hollow shell of sarcasm and self-loathing."

His jaw tightened as he took her words in and let them register in his mind. His first instinct was to fire back a biting, snarky comeback, but he restrained himself. In truth, she'd hit the nail on the head and he knew it. It _was_ far easier to be a jerk to her and pretend like she didn't matter than to admit just how much he actually missed her and how miserable he had been the last week.

Sam was silent and for a brief moment she wondered if she had gone too far. She realized she really didn't care and when he didn't say anything she let out a heavy, disappointed sigh and turned to look out the passenger's side window.

They rode in silence and the heavy air that hung between them made time pass excruciatingly slowly.

"So what happened?" His voice cracked from disuse as his question cut through the stillness.

Andy chewed the inside of her lip and kept her attention on the buildings that were flying by. "He accused me of sleeping with you," she answered bluntly.

Unbidden, the image of Andy naked and willing beneath him popped into his mind and he quickly shoved it aside, reprimanding himself for reacting like a teenaged boy to her words.

"And told me he didn't want me going over to your house anymore." She continued, raising an eyebrow as she recognized the irony, "Guess you guys have that in common."

She heard him let out an audible breath. "I'm sorry."

She chuckled bitterly. "No, you're not."

"Believe it or not, I don't want you to be unhappy," he said, cutting his eyes over to her.

"I wasn't unhappy," she replied evenly. "Not about breaking up with Luke, anyway."

Sam knew what she was saying without her having to say it. He chewed the inside of his cheek, thinking. "Well, I'm sorry that it was because of me and Lindsey."

"It wasn't. It may have been the final straw, but it was a long time coming. He didn't trust me, I was sick of dealing with his work schedule and whatever's going on with Jo…" she sighed and then afforded Sam a small, shaky smile, "And, like someone reminded me, I didn't have to put up with it."

He hazarded a glance over at her and returned her smile. "No," he replied. "You didn't."

She nodded and then shrugged, "So, I broke up with him. I was going to tell you that next afternoon when I got home from work but…" she trailed off, letting him infer the rest.

They lapsed into another stretch of silence that wasn't broken until Sam cleared his throat and admitted out of nowhere, "She told me she hated me."

"Lindsey?" Andy asked, alarmed.

Sam nodded. "She wanted to tell you about Callaghan as soon as we got home yesterday, but I wouldn't let her." He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the effort, "So she accused me of trying to ruin her life and told me that she hated me. She hasn't spoken to me since."

He relayed the events without emotion, but he couldn't mask the raw pain that darkened his eyes.

"Sam," she said, rushing to reassure him despite her irritation with him, "She didn't mean it. I'm sure she was just mad."

Sam wasn't sure what had caused him to share the words his niece had yelled at him but he hadn't realized just how desperately he'd been craving that reassurance from her until he heard it.

"I know," he replied quietly, rubbing his hand over his jawline. Andy could tell that as much as he may have wanted to, he didn't fully believe her.

She slumped back into her seat as she thought over what he had told her. He wasn't the type of person to just initiate conversation and divulge personal information on a whim and she suspected there was more to their fight the he was telling her.

"Is she upset that I haven't been around?"

Sam snorted. "Uh, yeah," he answered dryly, "You could say that. She pretty much thinks I'm Satan incarnate."

"So what are you going to tell her?" Andy asked.

He cut his eyes over to her briefly before returning his attention to the road. "About what?"

"Well," Andy clarified, "She's going to wonder why I'm with you."

"I'm going to tell her you forced me to bring you along," he replied. "And that I had no choice in the matter."

Andy's expression fell and she slouched further back into her seat.

"What?" He asked, knowing that her silence was meaningful.

She sighed and then honestly told him, "You say the most hurtful things sometimes."

His brow furrowed with confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"I didn't force you to let me come along," she replied icily. "I wanted to come because I actually care about Lindsey and for some reason I actually care about you, even though you're making it incredibly difficult to remember why right now."

"Andy…"

"Forget it," she said, speaking over him and shaking her head, "You're stubborn. You make a decision and you stick to it, damn the consequences or who might get hurt in the process."

Sam sighed heavily and straightened his arms, stretching out the stiff muscles. In his former life, before he had custody of Lindsey and before Andy McNally had moved in next door, there weren't too many people that were brave enough to call him out when he was wrong. Now, there were two females that seemed to jump at the chance whenever the opportunity presented itself.

"Andy," he said, getting her attention, "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I shouldn't have said that."

His words did little to soothe her hurt and she folded her arms over her chest guardedly and waited for him to continue.

"I have no idea what's going to happen with Lindsey when we get there," he admitted. "But despite what you think, I'm not an idiot. I'm not going to get Lindsey's hopes up and then just push you away again."

"You're not?" Andy asked, surprised.

He shook his head. "If anything, this week has proved just how much Lindsey needs someone like you."

"Someone _like_ me," Andy asked, "Or me?"

"You," he answered firmly. He'd had plenty of time to think it over the night before and had decided that trying to prevent something that might happen in the future wasn't worth the pain and trouble it was causing then. If for some reason Andy did leave, they could deal with it then.

"So you're saying you were wrong?" She persisted.

"I saw a problem and I saw what I thought was the solution and I made a decision to bring that solution about," he tried to explain, conceding, "I'm saying that I may have overreacted a little bit."

Andy raised an eyebrow. "A little bit?"

"I didn't consider all of the possible ramifications," he admitted.

"Well, that's because you compartmentalize, you don't look at the big picture."

He shot a hard glance over at her. "Are you going to keep interrupting or are you going to let me finish?"

She pursed her lips but didn't say anything in response.

"Thank you. This past week…" he sighed and then admitted truthfully, "Has been absolutely terrible. For Lindsey and for me."

"You brought that on yourself," she responded without mercy.

"I know," he acknowledged with a grimace.

"It's not just about Lindsey, you know, even though that was bad enough," Andy told him. "You cut me out of _your_ life too."

"It's not like I wanted to Andy," he replied. "But yeah, that kind of went along with it."

"So I was just expendable to you, is that what you're saying?" She recognized that she was being slightly irrational, but the ability to just lay all of it out there, to tell him exactly how he had hurt her, was cathartic.

He looked over at her, shocked by the suggestion. "No, of course not."

"That's what it felt like," she said, "Like we could be friends when it was convenient for you but when it wasn't…" her words gave way to silence and she shook her head.

Sam sighed again, pained. He knew that he had hurt her but he'd been able to justify it in his mind and shove it aside. Hearing the words from her, though, was an entirely different thing and he couldn't ignore it anymore. "Andy," he said genuinely, "I'm sorry I made you feel that way."

"Well, you did."

"And I said I was sorry," he said, feeling a fresh wave of frustration roll through him. Surely she recognized how difficult the conversation was for him.

"That's not always good enough, Sam."

"Look," Sam said, smiling patiently to keep himself from snapping at her, "I'm trying to apologize here."

Andy snorted. "Well you're not doing a very good job of it."

"Well, you're not exactly making it very easy," he countered irritably.

She caught on to the sincerity of his plea and reluctantly allowed the walls that she had built to crumble. "You know," she said, fiddling with her wristwatch, "You could just tell me that you missed me."

Sam's glanced over at her, taking in the way she studiously trained her eyes forward, as if she was too nervous to gauge his reaction. The lights from the street cast shadows across her face but he could see the way her lips curled the slightest bit at the ends. "Is that what you want to hear?"

"Only if you mean it."

There was a long pause and Sam's mouth twisted to the side as he tried to suppress a shy smile. "I missed you," he finally admitted.

Andy looked over at him at last. "I missed you, too."

He felt the tension that had risen in his chest crack when she smiled at him.

"But," she continued, "If you're serious about this, there's no going back. You can't just decide tomorrow that you don't want me around anymore. It's not fair."

"I don't want to go back," he promised. "I don't ever, _ever_ want to relive last week."

"Good," Andy smiled. "Me neither."

"And you're not expendable," he reiterated, still disturbed that she had even thought that. "At the risk of sounding cheesy…" he broke off, hesitant to finish his sentence.

"What?" She asked, laughing nervously.

He took a deep breath, gathering his nerve. "You are the best thing that's happened to us in a very long time."

The smile that broke across her face and the way her eyes twinkled made the uncomfortable effort worth it.

She sat back in her seat with a satisfied sigh. "You're not so bad at this apology stuff after all," she said.

Sam chuckled lightly for a moment and then his expression turned serious again, his features hardening. "I still have no idea what I'm going to do about Lindsey."

"You'll figure it out," Andy assured him. "No one expects you to have all the answers."

He nodded contemplatively. "I know. I just wish I had some of the answers."

Andy was quiet, knowing that there wasn't an easy solution she could offer. Instead of speaking, she reached across the console and nudged his hand, slipping her fingers in between his. He didn't acknowledge her, didn't take his eyes off the road, but his hand closed around hers in a tight grip.

The rest of the trip was made in relative, easy peace. They quickly settled back into their familiar banter, bickering about what to listen to on the radio and about how fast Sam was driving.

"I'd like to get back at a reasonable hour," he told her when she'd implored him to slow down.

"I'd like to just get back alive," she retorted.

When they arrived in St. Catherine's and pulled up to the address Sam had been given, he shut the engine off and looked over at her. "You should probably wait out here."

"Sure," she agreed, nodding. "That's fine with me." He looked passed her to the house and she could tell that he was nervous, maybe even ashamed. "Hey," she said, squeezing his hand, "Those people have teenagers. They understand what it's like."

He smiled back at her, grateful for the unsolicited encouragement. "Okay," he said, pushing his door open. "I'll be back."

She watched him as he made his way up the driveway and across the small walkway to the front of the house. He rang the doorbell and then took a step back, waiting for someone to answer.

Andy obviously didn't know the woman who came to the door but Lindsey soon appeared at her side. Sam and the woman spoke for a moment and then Lindsey hugged the woman and stepped out onto the walkway next to Sam. He led her away with a hand on her shoulder, turning back and waving when the woman called something out.

Lindsey was walking with her head down and her arms crossed over her chest, looking appropriately remorseful and chagrinned. Andy imagined that Sam hadn't had to say anything and that just looking at his niece with that stern, disappointed expression was enough for Lindsey to understand just how badly she had messed up. When they got closer to the truck, Andy undid her seatbelt and pushed her door open, climbing out. It took Lindsey a second to recognize her but when she did, she broke away from her uncle and ran towards Andy, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist. "Andy!" She exclaimed, "You're back!"

Andy smiled as she returned the hug. She looked up and found Sam watching them with a funny expression on his face, a mix between relief and concern. "Yeah," She replied. "Your uncle came and got me."

"Are you back, back?" Lindsey asked.

"Yeah, as long as that's okay with you."

Lindsey just tightened her hold and nodded. When she pulled away, Lindsey looked back at Sam, silently thanking him even though she couldn't make herself say the words.

Sam just raised an eyebrow in response. "Come on," he said, opening the door so Lindsey could climb into the backseat of the truck. "Let's go home."

Lindsey was thankful for Andy's renewed presence in her life for several reasons, one of which being that it kept her uncle from yelling at her. In fact, he barely said two words to her until they pulled over to a diner to eat and Andy excused herself to go to the bathroom.

"So," Lindsey said hesitantly, "How much trouble am I in?"

"Oh, I haven't quite decided yet," Sam mused, intently studying his menu. "But you can bet it will be a lot."

"Am I going to be grounded?"

"Only until you're thirty."

Lindsey sighed. "I'm sorry."

Sam closed his menu and folded his hands on top of it, looking at her closely. "Do you have any idea how scared I was?"

Lindsey winced. "I know. I just… had to get away."

"I know that you were angry with me," Sam acknowledged, "And you probably had every right to be, but running away…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "That is not okay, Lindsey. It's not just that you made me worry, but anything could have happened to you."

As a police officer, he was all too aware of the potential danger that runaways could find themselves in. Save for a brief, horrifying moment, he hadn't let himself go down that road but thinking about what _could_ have happened to her was enough to make bile rise in his throat.

Lindsey nodded and her eyes were brimming with tears. "I know, I'm sorry," she repeated, choking out the last word.

Sam reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. "We'll discuss your punishment later, alright? I'm just glad you're okay."

Lindsey nodded again, "Okay."

Sam squeezed her hand and then picked up his menu again, reading over it. "I know something that's going to make you happy."

She wiped at the tears under her eyes and sniffled before asking, "What?"

"I don't know if I should tell you or not…" he teased with a small smile.

"Tell me," She insisted, perking up.

He looked up at her and met her gaze. "Luke and Andy broke up."

Lindsey's eyes widened and a giant grin spread across her face. "Really?" He nodded and then chuckled at the pure delight on her face. "So you can date her now?"

He held up a finger. "Don't get ahead of yourself," he warned.

About that time Andy rejoined them and Lindsey hid her grin behind her menu. "What'd I miss?" Andy asked, sliding into the booth next to Lindsey.

"I'm grounded 'til I'm thirty," Lindsey deadpanned.

"Oh, well, yeah," Andy said, picking up her menu. "I could have told you that one. Geez, I'm starving," she said, her eyes travelling over the options, "I haven't had a decent meal in a week."

Sam arched an eyebrow. "Microwave dinners not doing it for you?"

"Let's just say that I've become accustomed to a little finer dining in recent weeks," Andy answered easily, "But my usual chef was… unavailable."

Sam smirked. "Well, I hear he's available again."

Lindsey grinned as her eyes bounced back and forth between her uncle and Andy.

Though Andy kept her head down in her menu, there was the faintest trace of a smile on her face as she replied, "Good to know."

When Andy went back to focusing on deciding what to eat, Lindsey lowered her menu just slightly to look over at her uncle. He felt her eyes on him and he glanced up with a small grin, winking at her knowingly.

The ride home was quiet and calm and by the time Sam finally pulled onto the street in front of their houses, Lindsey had fallen asleep.

"You want me to wake her up?" Andy whispered, glancing into the back seat. Lindsey was curled against the side door with her legs drawn up to her chest.

Sam shook his head, turning the engine off. "I'll just carry her," he replied. "I don't like waking her up if I don't have to."

"Okay." Andy opened her door as quietly as possible so as not to wake the sleeping girl and stepped out onto the sidewalk. She shivered in the cold night air and rubbed her hands rapidly up and down her arms to generate some warmth.

Sam came around to Andy's side of the truck and carefully opened the back cab door, holding his hand out to steady Lindsey so she wouldn't fall out. He easily lifted the girl into his arms and Andy closed the doors behind him and then walked with him up the stairs that lead to his house. When they reached the front door, Sam turned to her and a small smirk played on his lips.

"Can you grab the keys?" He asked, turning his hip towards her. "They're in my pocket."

Andy quirked an eyebrow and returned his smirk. "That's convenient."

"I promise I wasn't thinking when I put 'em in there."

"Uh huh," she muttered, humoring him. She did what he asked with a glint in her eye, warning him, "Behave."

His smirk became a full-blown grin as he felt her small hand reached inside his front pocket to retrieve the keys. A comment was on the tip of his tongue and he desperately wanted to tease her, wanted to see if he could make her cheeks flush with color, but he restrained himself.

Andy pulled the keys out without incident and unlocked the door, pushing it open so Sam could step through. She followed behind him as he made his way up the steps and into Lindsey's room, quickly turning the sheets down so that he could set Lindsey on the bed. Sam moved to the girl's feet to pull her shoes off while Andy slipped her coat from her shoulders and they worked in tandem to get Lindsey tucked into bed, somehow managing to do so without waking her up.

Andy pulled the comforter on the bed up to Lindsey's chin and then smoothed her hair out of her face before stepping away. As they quietly padded back down the stairs to the foyer Andy whispered, "I should probably get going."

"I'll walk you home."

"But I just live right next door," she pretended to protest.

"I insist," he replied with a grin, opening his front door for her.

"Well in that case…" Andy laughed as she stepped through the door and waited for him to close it before linking her arm through his.

Being so close to him again reminded her off all the little things she hadn't realized she had forgotten in their short time apart. Little things, like the husky scent of his cologne and the way that his bicep flexed when her fingers curled around it. She'd forgotten the way his hand easily came to rest on the small of her back as he guided her up her stairs and she'd forgotten the way he leaned against the wall beside her door, watching her with an amused smirk as she searched the pockets of her coat for her keys.

She stifled a yawn as she slipped her key into the lock, hoping he wouldn't notice.

"Tired?" He asked, pocketing his hands.

She nodded and turned to him, smiling sleepily. "Long day," she said, forgetting about her opened door as she mirrored his posture, standing in front of him and leaning against the wall.

He raised an eyebrow, either at her words or at how she had positioned herself. "Yeah, it has been," he agreed.

They stared at each other and the air between them crackled with tension. He reached out and fiddled with the top toggle of her coat and she let him, watching him curiously, wondering what he was going to do.

His fingers stilled around the object and he tugged it gently as he drew in a breath that hitched in his throat, as if he was planning to say something. Instead, he splayed his fingers out over her shoulder and ran his hand down her arm, taking her hand in his.

Sam squeezed her hand and his mouth curled into a small half smile. "Thank you for coming with me."

"Of course," she replied simply, stroking her thumb over his knuckles.

"I, uh," he smiled somewhat shyly and then glanced away from her for a moment, "I'll make that soup you like tomorrow night if you want to come over."

A wide, delighted smile spread slowly across her face. "Will you tell me what's in it?"

His smirked and shook his head, chuckling, "No."

Her grin broadened. "Okay," she said. "I'll be there."

"Good," he said with a decisive nod. "Well," he let her hand drop and winked at her. "Goodnight."

She frowned, feeling a sense of disappointment she didn't quite understand. "Goodnight."

With a final smile Sam turned to jog down her steps.

Sighing, Andy pushed her door open, stopping when she heard him call out, "Hey, McNally?"

"Yeah?" When she turned around he was closer than she expected him to be and he moved even closer, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her flush against him. She gasped when their bodies connected and all of a sudden her heart was hammering inside her chest and heat was swirling in her belly.

"So I was thinking," he breathed, his voice low and raspy, "Lindsey needs you in her life…"

"Mmmhmm," she agreed distractedly, her eyes flickering down to watch the way his lips moved and formed his words, biting her own lip in nervous anticipation.

He framed her face in his free hand and tilted her head back slightly, brushing his thumb over the smooth skin of her cheek. His mouth moved closer to hers and her eyes followed his tongue as it peeked out to swipe along his bottom lip, wetting it before continuing, "And I need you in mine."

The admission caught her by surprise and her eyes flew to meet his as she drew in a dizzying breath. "Yeah?" she whispered, rapidly losing her power of speech as she tangled her fingers through his short hair.

He nodded and his nose nuzzled against hers in a move that made her knees weak from its intimacy. "Yeah," he confirmed, pausing only a second to relish in the moment before crashing his lips down on hers.

**_ETA: _Several commenters have asked if this is the last chapter... it's not! I still have a lot more planned for Sam/Andy/Lindsey.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: Wow, thank you so much for the reviews on the last chapter! I'm sorry this update has taken me longer than normal but I hope that you will enjoy it! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue. **

"Did you get everything?" Lindsey asked, throwing the door open and ushering Andy inside.

As Andy entered the house, she held up the two large bags of crafts supplies she was carrying, "Got it!"

"Excellent!" Lindsey said, leading her to the kitchen table. "We have to hurry because kids are going to start coming soon."

Andy followed Lindsey but before she sat down she poked her head into the living room, looking for Sam. When she didn't see him, she frowned. "Hey," Andy said, moving into the kitchen and sitting at the table. "Where's your uncle?"

"He's upstairs fixing my bathtub," Lindsey said, "It wasn't draining this morning." She scrunched her nose, "I had to stand in gross, icky water during my shower."

"That is nasty," Andy sympathized, pulling the contents of the craft bag out. "Okay, they only had yellow and red shirts in extra large, so that's what I went with."

"Do you want to be yellow or red?" Lindsey asked, holding up the two shirts.

"It's up to you," Andy shrugged and told the young girl.

Lindsey looked between the colors contemplatively. "I'll be red," she decided, handing the yellow shirt over.

"Sounds good. I got white and black felt for the eyes and then I got this orange felt for the beaks, I figured we could fold it or something to make it stick out," Andy said, configuring the felt in her hands to make it beak shaped. "I don't know, we'll figure something out."

Lindsey nodded, plugging in the hot glue gun. "These are going to be the best costumes." She picked up the scissors and then looked over at Andy. "Thanks for dressing up with me."

"Are you kidding?" Andy said, tracing a circle onto one of the pieces of white felt. "I've been looking forward to this all day."

The night before, while sprawled on the living room floor playing an intense game of Scrabble, Lindsey brought up the fact that the next day was Halloween.

"_You're grounded," Sam reminded her, rearranging his Scrabble tiles. "No trick or treating." _

"_Yeah, I know," Lindsey said, looking at him hopefully, "But I could dress up to hand out candy, right?" _

_Sam was studying his tiles intently, his face screwed in concentration, when he answered, "Sure, whatever, I don't care." _

_Lindsey grinned broadly and then looked over at Andy, asking, "You want to dress up with me?" _

_Andy, happy for the distraction from the game she was losing, nodded eagerly and the two girls began throwing out costume ideas._

"_Aha!" Sam exclaimed triumphantly, interrupting their brainstorming session. He laid his tiles out on the Scrabble board, "QUIRK. That's thirty-eight points and it's on a triple word score so that's…" he did the calculation quickly in his mind, "One hundred and fourteen points." He took in the blank expressions of his competitors and asked, "What?" _

"_Well, I think that means you win," Andy said, standing up. "Again. Are we done with this game yet?" _

"_No," Sam replied, his brow furrowing, "We're not done, all the tiles aren't gone." _

"_Oh no," Lindsey said, joining Andy on the sofa, "I think we're done." _

_As Sam cleaned up the game, grumbling about them being sore losers, Andy and Lindsey planned out their costumes for the following day. _

Andy and Lindsey hadn't been assembling their costumes for very long when Sam came downstairs, wiping his arms dry with a hand towel.

"Hey," he said, joining them in the kitchen, "What are you guys doing?"

Andy turned at the sound of his voice and greeted him with a smile, which he returned. Lindsey just looked up at him warily. "We're making our costumes. Remember yesterday? You said we could dress up for the trick or treaters,"

"I remember," Sam assured her, observing the mess that covered his table. "So what did you guys decide to be?" He didn't even try to pretend like he remembered their discussion; after sufficiently dominating in Scrabble, which he had been roped into playing in the first place, he turned the television on and lost track of what they were talking about.

"Angry Birds," Lindsey told him, gluing an eye to her red t-shirt.

Sam's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "What, like hawks or vultures or something?"

Both Andy and Lindsey whipped their heads around to stare at him, their faces a mix between disbelief and amusement. They looked back at each other and then burst into laughter. "No, Sam," Andy explained, laughing, "Angry Birds is a game. We're dressing up like the characters."

"Oh," he accepted her explanation, unconcerned with his blunder.

"You probably don't know what it is because you don't have a cool cellphone," Lindsey informed him.

"You don't have a cellphone at all," Sam responded. "How do you know what it is?"

"Well, people at my school who aren't totally lame have one and let me play sometimes. Andy has one, too," Lindsey said, pointing to Andy with her scissors.

Andy glanced up. "I can show you, if you want," she told Sam, eyeing him carefully, hoping he would play along.

At first he looked at her dubiously but then when he recognized her pointed stare, he hid a grin and agreed, "Yeah, that'd be great."

Andy quickly got to her feet. "My phone is in my purse in the foyer," she said. "I'll be right back Lindsey."

"Okay," Lindsey agreed, already reabsorbed in her project.

As Andy led Sam out of the kitchen, she tried to keep from giggling. They hadn't told Lindsey about the change in their relationship yet, since they hadn't quite figured it out themselves, and she couldn't help but feel like a teenager who was sneaking around whenever she and Sam tried to find time to be alone.

When they were out of Lindsey's view and earshot Sam grabbed Andy's hand and spun her around. He grinned as he looked down at her and whispered, "Hi."

"Hi," she replied quietly before rocking forward onto her tiptoes and pressing her lips to his. He suppressed a groan and slipped his arms around her waist, deepening the kiss as he pulled her against him.

Andy's back arched as she responded eagerly to him, clinging to his broad shoulders, completely forgetting about his niece who sat obliviously in the next room. When she broke away, Sam cupped her face in his hand and his eyes danced with amusement as he ran his thumb over her swollen bottom lip. "You look nice," he said.

She felt her face flush, still unused to the compliments he liked to dole out during their brief, private moments. "Take a good look," she instructed him, "I'm going to be dressed like a fat, yellow bird for the rest of the night."

Sam smirked as he freely let his eyes roam her body, leaving trails of heat in his wake. "I can't wait to see that," he replied.

"You sure you don't want to join us?" Andy asked, teasing, "There's a black bird and you have plenty of black t-shirts we could use to make your costume."

"Oh," Sam replied, "I think I'll stick to my decision to sit out of this year's festivities."

Andy chuckled and tangled her hands in his hair and kissed him again, simply because she could. In the four days that had passed since he first kissed her, their physical contact had been limited to stolen moments and heated goodnight kisses at her door. He was affectionate in other ways; he'd tug her to him when they were in the kitchen just to stand close to her and if they sat on the sofa together he'd find someway to touch her, either by pulling her feet into his lap or by stretching his arm across the back of the sofa and twirling her hair through his fingers.

They had yet to define what was going on and exactly what they were to each other, but Andy knew without having to be told that it was no casual thing she was entering into. She wasn't just getting Sam, she was getting Sam and Lindsey and there was a great amount of responsibility in that and she didn't take it lightly. However, instead of scaring her like the idea of commitment usually did, the idea of being with Sam made her heart flutter with anticipation of what the future could hold.

She smiled against his lips and pulled away, "So I hear you're a plumber now."

His eyes were unfocused when they met hers. "What?"

She tilted her head towards the staircase. "Lindsey said you were fixing her bathtub when I got here," she told him. "I'm impressed."

"You should be," he replied, busying himself with planting small kisses down her neck. "It was incredibly difficult and took a great amount of skill to remove that giant clump of hair."

Andy's nose wrinkled in distaste and she put her hands to his chest, pushing him away. "Okay, I'm not so impressed anymore. That's gross."

"You asked." He chuckled as he let his arms fall from around her waist, stepping back. "Should we get back in there?" he asked, nodding to the kitchen.

"Probably," she conceded. "Oh, but first can I grab your pillow?"

Sam looked at her uncertainly. "My pillow?"

She took his hand and began walking towards his bedroom. "For stuffing," she clarified. "It'll go under my shirt."

At that, Sam raised an eyebrow and grumbled, "My pillow is getting under the shirt action before I am?"

Andy just rolled her eyes as she stepped into the room. "Jealous of inanimate objects?"

"Maybe," he confessed, grabbing the two pillows off of his bed. After handing them over, he caught her around the waist before she could turn to leave his room.

He was looking at her with a funny expression and she met his gaze with wide, curious eyes only to squeeze them shut when his lips swept down to capture hers once again. The pillows that were in her hands fell to the ground when she dropped them in favor of twining her arms around his neck, lost in his all-consuming kiss.

His hands ran down her back to cup her bottom, holding her firmly to him, and he kissed her thoroughly, leaving her dizzy and breathless when he broke away.

He took a deep breath and then nodded decisively, satisfied. "Okay, we can go now."

Andy panted slightly as she brought her fingers to her lips, watching as he bent to pick up the fallen pillows. He grinned at her dazed expression and, with a hand on the small of her back, led her back to the kitchen.

The costumes were finished quickly and Lindsey and Andy pulled their respective t-shirts on over black long-sleeved shirts and black leggings. They stuffed pillows under their shirts and Lindsey giggled with delight at how closely their homemade efforts resembled the real thing.

The rest of the night was spent watching a Halloween special on television and running back and forth to the front door whenever the doorbell rang. At one point, Lindsey looked over at Andy and asked excitedly, "Hey, do you want to see pictures from other Halloweens?"

Sam interrupted before Andy could answer, "No, she doesn't."

Lindsey grinned at Andy knowingly. "He's in them," she told her, "That's why he doesn't want you to see them."

Andy laughed and looked over at Sam. "You went trick or treating?"

Sam nodded. "Every year," Lindsey verbally confirmed, walking over to the hall closet to pull out a photo album. "Except last year, when I went with a big group."

"Do you know how many freaks are out on Halloween?" Sam responded defensively. "There was no way I was going to let you and your mother knock on strangers' doors alone."

Lindsey rolled her eyes, sitting back down beside Andy. "Yeah, because there are just _sooo_ many freaks in St. Catherine's."

"Did you dress up?" Andy asked curiously.

"If you count wearing his police uniform as a costume, then yes, he dressed up," Lindsey answered for Sam, opening the album across her lap and flipping through the pages. "But I think that was more to scare people than anything."

Andy looked across the living room to Sam, grinning at the new information. She had no trouble envisioning him accompanying his sister and niece to people's houses, probably loving every minute of it but wearing a scowl the entire time. He met her eyes and just shrugged, not bothering to make an excuse for his behavior.

Lindsey pointed out a picture to Andy. "This one's my favorite," she said. Andy looked at the picture and then cracked up; it showed Sam in his uniform holding Lindsey on his hip. Lindsey couldn't have been older than three and she was dressed up in a black and white striped jailbird costume, complete with a ball that functioned as a candy bag and a chain.

"That's hilarious," Andy agreed. She looked closer and then pointed at Sam's head, laughing, "Oh my gosh."

"The hair, right?" Lindsey said, giggling. "I know, it was so bad."

"Okay," Sam retorted, "It was very cool back then, I've told you that."

Andy clamped her mouth shut, suppressing a smile. "Your hair looks good now," she said, appeasing his ego.

His lips curled up slightly at the ends and he settled back into his chair, placated for the moment. Lindsey flipped through the rest of the photo album and had a commentary for every picture, describing details of her costume or memories from that particular night. It always surprised Sam what she was able to recall, whether it was how cold it was one night or a funny costume that she had seen. Andy listened closely and asked questions, glancing over at Sam and smiling whenever Lindsey told a story about him.

Sam noticed that Lindsey didn't offer too many details about her mom and that Andy didn't press for information. He wasn't surprised; Lindsey hadn't brought up her mother in quite some time. He supposed it was part of the grieving process; for a while she was talking about her mother and asking questions constantly, trying to process what had happened, but lately she seemed more closed off and reserved.

By the time Lindsey had finished going through the album it was already way passed the time she normally went to bed. Sam glanced at his watch and then reminded her of the time. "You have school tomorrow."

Lindsey sighed and closed the album, looking over at her uncle anxiously. "Uncle Sam?" She said, suddenly sounding nervous.

"Yes?"

"There's kind of something that I needed to talk to you about," she said. She fidgeted with her costume and continued, "Hannah Shaw's birthday is Friday."

"Okay," Sam replied wearily, already guessing where the conversation was headed.

"And today she told me that she's having a sleepover party."

"On Friday?" Lindsey nodded. "You're grounded until Saturday."

"I know," Lindsey acknowledged, cringing. "I was kind of hoping you could make an exception. It's my first birthday party here and a lot of the girls are going to it from my school."

Sam was silent, thinking it over. "I don't know Lindsey…"

"Please?" She begged, looking at him with pleading eyes.

Sam relented slightly. "I'll think about it," he promised. "But right now you need to get to bed."

"Thank you," Lindsey gushed, grinning as she hopped to her feet, happy that her uncle hadn't outright refused her request. "Goodnight Andy," she said, hugging her awkwardly over their large stomachs.

Andy laughed as she attempted to hug Lindsey but ended up being knocked back onto the sofa. "Goodnight Lindsey. See you tomorrow."

Sam was standing by the time Lindsey made it to him and she gave him a weak, half-hearted hug as he kissed the top of her head. "Goodnight kiddo," he said, "Love you."

"Love you too," she replied, padding out of the living room.

Sam watched her go and then moved to sit next to Andy on the sofa, throwing his arm over the back. Andy tried to curl against him, but they both chuckled as the stuffing in her shirt thwarted her efforts. After another failed attempt at finding a comfortable position, Andy stood and quickly removed the pillows. "Aw," she breathed, smiling contentedly as she sat back down on the sofa and drew her legs up beneath her. "That's so much better."

There was a spell of silence as Sam lightly stroked his fingers up and down Andy's arm. "Think I should let her go?"

"To Hannah's party?" Andy asked, craning her neck so she could look at him.

Sam nodded.

Andy sighed and settled back against his chest. "That's your decision," she replied, not wanting to overstep her bounds.

"I know," he muttered, his fingers stilling, "But I want to know what you think, that's why I asked."

Andy considered his words, pleased that he actually cared about her opinion. "I think you should let her go," she told him. "It's just one day shorter and it would probably be good for her to be around friends."

"That's what I was thinking," Sam admitted. He groaned in frustration and then stretched out on the sofa, pulling Andy down on top of him. "Even grounding her can't be simple."

Andy laughed and propped her chin up on his chest. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Boxer-briefs," he replied, crooking his arm behind his head.

Andy smirked at his answer. "Good to know, but not really what I was wondering."

"Oh," he said innocently, peeking down at her. "What were you wondering?"

She paused. "Is everything okay between you and Lindsey?"

"Yeah, why?" His tone was light but he had stiffened and waited a just moment too long to answer. Andy could tell that she had hit a nerve.

"I don't know," she mused, drawing patterns on his shirt with her fingers, "Things just seem tense, that's all."

She had noticed that even though there wasn't outright arguing, the relationship between Sam and Lindsey had been strained since they returned from St. Catherine's. There wasn't the easy banter or the playful teasing that there had been before.

"I'm not her favorite person right now," Sam replied, his hands wandering over her back, "I assume she doesn't enjoy being grounded."

"Okay," Andy accepted his answer. She could tell that there was more, so she prodded, "Is that it?"

Sam was quiet for a stretch, thinking. After a moment he coughed, clearing his throat, and then rolled her beneath him, cradling her head in his hand. He looked down at her and frowned. "I told you we had that fight before she ran away?"

"Yeah," Andy said. She had always wondered if there was more to it than what he had told her.

"I told you she said that I had ruined her life?" Andy nodded. "What she actually said was that I ruined her life just like I ruined her mom's life."

Andy's stomach twisted, knowing how hard it must have been for Sam to hear those words from his niece. She still recalled with sickening clarity the pained, guilty look on his face when he told her that he was the one to insist that his sister begin taking her pain medication. "She didn't mean it."

Sam squinted and the skin around his eyes wrinkled, making him seem tired and weary. "She wouldn't have said it if she hadn't thought it before." He didn't sound like he was fishing for her to disagree with him but rather as if he actually believed what he was saying.

"She may have thought it, but she doesn't believe it," Andy insisted. "She knows it's not your fault."

Sam "hmmed" and bent his head down to nuzzle her neck, nipping at the skin above the neckline of her t-shirt.

Andy sighed and framed his face with her hands, forcing him to look at her. "It's not your fault," Andy reiterated firmly.

"Okay," Sam agreed, brushing his lips against hers. She knew what he was doing; he was trying to distract her so he could avoid the conversation. Had it been anyone else, Andy wouldn't have let the issue go and would have forced them to talk to her, but she knew that forcing Sam to talk would just frustrate him and make him shut down. Telling herself that she should be thankful for the small disclosure she had received, she wrapped her arms around his neck and let him press her into the cushions, deepening the kiss slowly.

Andy was vaguely aware of the hand that ran down her side, cupping her breast on its descent. She felt it pushing her shirt up and let out a soft moan when Sam's warm hand spread out over her stomach, his thumb grazing the sensitive skin that covered her ribcage.

They heard Lindsey descending the stairs at the same time and Sam sprang off of Andy, flying to other side of the couch before she could even catch her breath. A blush colored her cheeks when she saw him snatch a pillow off of the ground to cover his lap but the sound of Lindsey coming closer drew her from her daze and prompted her into action; she hastily sat up and straightened her shirt just as Lindsey entered the living room.

Lindsey looked between them suspiciously. "I just needed my book," she said, picking up a paperback from the coffee table and waving it in her hand. "I'm going to go back to bed now."

"Okay," Sam replied easily, "Goodnight."

Lindsey shot them another curious look but then turned on her heel and left the living room.

Andy blinked and looked over at Sam guiltily. "Why do I feel like I'm fifteen again?"

"Because we were almost caught making out on the couch." Sam laughed and stood up, holding out his hand. "Come on big bird," he said, "Let me walk you home."

That Friday, Sam called Andy while she was as work and asked her what her plans were for that evening. Andy admitted that she had told Traci she would meet her at the Penny but instead of sounding disappointed, Sam perked up and told her that he would see her there.

Andy arrived first and chose a high table that gave her a clear view of the door. Whenever it swung open she would look up expectantly, hoping to see Sam. When he finally did enter the bar, she bit her lip to hide a smile.

He came in with Oliver and stood just at the entrance, scanning the room, searching for her. When his gaze landed on her his eyes began to twinkle with a mischievous grin even though his lips remained in a straight line. Clapping the other man on the shoulder, Sam said something to him and then, after doging a waitress precariously balancing a tray of drinks, began walking towards her, moving confidently through the crowd.

There was another woman who noticed him; Andy saw the way the blonde's eyes had latched onto him as soon as he entered and then followed him as he walked past her. She actually turned on her stool as she watched his retreating form and frowned when she discerned where he was headed. A faint, pleased smile graced Andy's lips when she realized that Sam hadn't paid the slightest amount of attention to the other woman's interest and that he didn't even seem to notice her very obvious stare. He was focused on Andy and Andy alone.

She wasn't certain what brought on the sudden wave of nervousness; maybe it was the look in Sam's eyes or the way dimly lit room and his dark Henley shirt sharpened his already chiseled features. Maybe it was the relative unfamiliarity of being with him somewhere other than the comfort of his home. Here, at the bar, he wasn't Sam, Lindsey's uncle. He was Sam, incredibly attractive man approaching her with an almost predatory stride.

He slowed as he reached her table and lifted his arm to let it drape loosely across the back of her chair, leaning in just enough so that his chest bumped her shoulder. "Hi," he greeted her, a smug grin in place as if he could sense the butterflies that were flapping around in her belly and was proud of his ability to put them there.

Andy gave him what she hoped was a dazzling smile and turned in her chair to face him. "Hi," she flirted back, resting her elbow on the table and propping her chin in her hand.

Her knees had parted just slightly when she rearranged herself and he subtly stepped between them, the rough fabric of his jeans rubbing against her denim clad inner thighs with delicious friction. "Good day at work?" He asked innocently, smoothing an errant strand of hair out of her face.

She nodded, not daring to look away from his intense gaze. "Great day. You?"

"It was fine," he replied distractedly. He cleared his throat and then bent his head down to whisper in her ear, apparently done with pleasantries. "So, I told Lindsey that she could go to Hannah Shaw's birthday party tonight."

How he made a simple sentence about a teenager's birthday party sound so devastatingly sexy and suggestive, she wasn't sure. It seemed like it should be wrong, his talent for turning something perfectly innocent into lascivious innuendo, but as his breath tickled her ear and sent shivers down her spine, she realized she really didn't care.

"Good," she replied, her voice cracking. She swallowed hard, wetting her dry throat, and then tried again. "That's good."

"She's going to be gone all night," he told her unnecessarily.

"That's how slumber parties usually work," she replied, her voice wavering, much to her chagrin.

Sam grinned at her obvious discomfort and ran his tongue along his top teeth, making her wait with baited breath for what he was going to say next. He glanced away and she noticed that the muscle in his jaw tensed before he looked back at her and suggested, "I was thinking that you could come over."

There it was. The invitation.

The reason she'd been taking extra time to shave her legs every morning that week and why she, for the first time in her life, actually cared if her underwear matched her bra.

There was the slightest falter to his words, the briefest moment of hesitation that she wouldn't have caught had she not become attuned to the normal cadence of his speech. She felt a surge of confidence swell in her chest, knowing that despite how well he disguised it, he was just affected by her as she was by him.

"Oh you were?" Andy asked impishly, allowing her hand to lazily roam across his abdomen and settle just above the curve of his backside. "And what would we do if I were to come over?"

Sam suppressed a wicked grin, trying unsuccessfully to appear unfazed by her touch. "Oh, I'm sure we could think of something," he assured her. "You know, order a pizza, watch a movie. Maybe turn in early."

His fingers trailed down the line of her back and then boldly slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, splaying out over the smooth skin just above the waistband of her jeans. There was a cold draft that hit her bared skin but the warmth of his hand tempered the effect, making her shiver all the same.

"Mmmhmm," Andy hummed, pretending to consider his offer. "I was thinking we could skip the first two, if that's okay with you."

She heard him draw in a sharp breath and then he grinned broadly, his teeth gleaming. "I feel certain that could be arranged. But um," he looked at her remorsefully and nodded over to where Oliver had grabbed a table, "First I kind of promised Oliver I'd buy him a drink because he's going to have a house full of girls tonight."

"That's fine," Andy replied, flicking her finger over the top button of his shirt before spreading her fingers out over his chest. "I'm supposed to meet up with Traci and the guys anyway."

"You want to just let me know when you're done?" He asked. "I'll drive you home. Or," he amended, "To my home."

"What a gentleman you are," she teased, laughing lightly. "Escorting me to your bed."

He let out a short, choked laugh and then raised an eyebrow. "You can walk, if you'd prefer."

She knew perfectly well that he was bluffing and would probably pitch a fit if she didn't take him up on his offer. "No way," she said, smiling as she shook her head. "It's freezing outside. It'd be practically inhuman to make me walk."

He rested an elbow against the table and leaned his body in, speaking in a low, hushed tone as his lips hovered just slightly above hers. "Then let me take you home."

"Okay," She replied, speaking before she even thought about her answer. Not that it would have mattered.

"Okay," he repeated decisively, stepping back and out of her embrace despite her pout. "Just come get me when you're done."

She winked at him and promised, "I'll make it fast."

After he left, Andy brought her hands up to her face in an attempt to cool her overheated cheeks. Despite her efforts, she could not wipe the wide, happy grin off of her face and it was the first thing Traci commented on when she and Chris and Dov arrived.

"You look happy," she remarked, wrapping her arm around Andy's shoulder in a half hug as she took her seat. "What's up?"

Andy glanced over at Sam, watching as he tilted his beer bottle up and took a long, slow swig. When he lowered the bottle he caught her eye and winked and Andy felt her cheeks flush with color again.

She quickly shifted her gaze back to Traci, who gave her a funny look. Andy realized she was taking too long to answer the question. "Nothing," she lied, not quite ready to reveal the source of her happiness. She looked down at the drink in her hands and swirled the liquid in the glass while continuing, "Just a good day at work, that's all."

"That's new," Traci observed, interrupting herself to give the waitress her order. When the waitress moved on to Chris, Traci turned her attention back to Andy. "Boyd didn't give you any trouble?"

"No," Andy said, shaking her head. "He's good. I mean… he's not going to win training officer of the year or anything, but he's been surprisingly decent lately. I'm not sure what's gotten into him."

Chris snorted. "Sam Swarek's boot in his ass, that's what's gotten into him."

Andy chuckled and lifted her drink to her lips, not fully realizing what Chris had said or the way that he grimaced when Dov kicked him under the table. When his words finally registered, Andy lowered her glass and looked at him wearing an expression of confusion and alarm. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," he replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Chris, did Sam say something to Boyd?" Andy demanded. "He did, didn't he?"

As Chris looked helplessly back and forth between Andy and Sam, weighing his options and the consequences of telling Andy what Sam had done, Dov let out a low groan and covered his eyes with his hand, muttering, "Idiot."

"Chris!" Andy repeated loudly. "Tell me what happened."

"Well," Chris said hesitantly, trying to pass off the burden of telling Andy, "I wasn't the one with him, so I don't really know."

Andy's eyes narrowed on Dov, who looked away, whistling innocently. "Dov."

Her tone was direct and no nonsense. Dov realized she wasn't going to let the issue go until she found out what had happened, so he sighed and punched Chris in the arm before turning back to Andy. "We may have gone by Boyd's house," he told her.

"When?"

"A few weeks ago," he answered, cringing slightly under her glare. "Sam knew he'd be home because it was garbage day, whatever that means."

"It means I wasn't working," Andy explained off-handedly. "What did he say to him?"

"I'm not sure," he answered honestly, "He made me stay in the cruiser."

"Did he just talk to him, or was there more?" Andy asked, fearing the worst.

Dov hesitated. "He may have punched him," he admitted reluctantly. "In the stomach. Just once though."

Andy took a deep breath and looked over at Traci. "Did you know about this?" she asked her friend.

Traci was still for a moment and then she nodded guiltily.

"Traci!" Andy exclaimed, outraged. "How could you not tell me?"

"Well, you know I normally don't condone that kind of this," Traci said, straightening her spine and sitting taller in her seat, "But Boyd was jerk who needed to be dealt with." Her statement was met with a murmur of agreement from Chris and Dov. "Plus Sam warned us not to tell you and I don't really want to be on that guy's bad side."

Dov nodded in agreement and commented, "You should have seen how fast Boyd went down." He slapped Chris on the shoulder, "Good luck brother. It was nice knowing you."

Chris's eyes widened and he turned to Andy, pleading, "Please don't tell Sam I told you."

Andy was already standing up from her seat, on her way so confront Sam.

He smiled naively when he noticed her approaching. "You done already?" His smile fell as soon as she reached his table and he saw her expression. "What's wrong?"

Her demeanor was drastically different than when he had left her at her table. "You went to see Boyd?" She hissed. "How could you do that?"

Oliver's eyes widened and he turned to Sam, obviously unaware of his friend's visit to the other training officer. "You talked to Boyd?"

Sam let out an exasperated sigh and looked back to the table full of rookies. "Which one of those idiots told you?"

"It doesn't matter," Andy said, her voice getting louder, "I can't believe you would do that. I specifically asked you to stay out of it and what'd you do? You went and punched him!"

"You punched him?" Oliver repeated. Sam cut his eyes over to his friend and nodded slightly, sending Andy into another rant.

Sam was quiet, letting her yell at him. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair, staring at her as she waved her arms around and accused him of making her seem weak and unable to take care of herself.

When she finally took a breath, he raised an eyebrow. "You done?"

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" She asked.

He pursed his lips and shook his head. "Nope," he said. "Well, other than the fact that I'd do it again in a second."

She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him in disbelief. "You arrogant, son of a bitch," she seethed. "You could have ruined my career."

Sam rubbed his hand over his jaw and then chuckled mirthlessly. He stood up and pulled his wallet out of his pocket, tossing a couple of bills onto the table. "I'm out of here," he said, brushing passed Andy.

"Sam, Sammy," Oliver called out, "Come back here, man."

Sam ignored his friend and continued stalking out of the bar.

Andy started to follow him, but Oliver grabbed her arm, stopping her. "Andy, Andy, Andy," he said, "Give him a little bit of time."

"He had no right to do that!" Andy said, pointing after Sam.

"I know," Oliver held both of his hands up, trying to calm her down. "I told him the same thing."

"He told you about Boyd?"

Oliver nodded. "He was worried about you. Plus, it was Boyd, so that adds a whole other dimension to it."

Andy pressed her fingers against her temples, breathing deeply. "What do you mean, a whole other dimension?"

Oliver's brow furrowed. "You don't know about Sam and Boyd?"

Andy shook her head. "No, what are you talking about?"

Oliver sighed and got to his feet. "Come with me," he said, "There's something you need to see."

He took her back to the station and sat her down in front of a computer, pulling up Jamie Brennan's case file. "What is this?" Andy asked, starting to scroll through it.

"An undercover operation Sam and Boyd worked together," Oliver told her, sitting down next to her.

Andy read through the notes that detailed the undercover agent's capture, torture and release and felt the knot in the pit of her stomach grow. "Who's J.D.?" She asked, clicking over to the pictures. When she saw the first one, she drew in a sharp breath, "Oh my god."

Oliver nodded. "Yeah."

"When was this?" Andy asked, feeling sick as she looked through the pictures that catalogued Sam's injuries.

"Three years ago," Oliver replied quietly, still unable to look at the pictures without remembering the fear and the dread that had consumed him while Sam was missing.

"How did he get made?"

"We still don't really know," Oliver told her, "But Boyd was his handler and gave Sam some bad information. Whether Boyd did it deliberately or not, we'll never know, but somehow he's definitely at fault for what happened."

Andy was quiet, slowly shaking her head as she tried to process the information.

Oliver checked his watch. "I'm sorry, I've got to get going. My wife's going to be calling for back up soon. You want me to drop you off at home?"

Andy blinked and then looked up at him. "No," she said. "No, I'll walk."

"Okay." Oliver stood his feet and rested his hand on her shoulder before walking away. "Andy, you have to understand that when Sam thinks of Boyd," he pointed to the computer, "That's what he remembers. I'm sure when he realized that you were having trouble with him, it was all he could do not to kill the guy."

Andy nodded silently, turning back to the computer.

Oliver patted her shoulder one last time and then turned, leaving her alone.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: I know I've said this before, but you guys leave some of the most thoughtful, encouraging reviews. I apologize that I have not been able to respond to all of them personally- I start out with good intentions but then just run out of time. Please know that I truly appreciate each and every one of them. Thank you! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue. **

It was late and dark by the time Andy finally made it home. Instead of climbing the stairs to her own house, she made her way up to Sam's front door and hesitantly knocked.

It took several minutes for him to answer and she assumed he inside debating whether or not to even open the door. She knew that ultimately he would; his sensibilities would never allow him to deny her and leave her out in the cold no matter how upset he was.

The seconds ticked by and Andy anxiously knocked again before stepping back and pulling her coat tighter around her, trying to block out the wind.

When the door finally swung open and Sam's frame filled the entryway she schooled her face into a neutral expression, trying not to show a reaction to his bloodshot, glassy eyes.

"What?" he asked, his hand forming a fist against the plane of the door.

Andy swallowed hard. "Can we talk?"

Even though his eyes were unfocused, his gaze was penetrating and he stared at her a long moment before moving in response to her request. He pushed the door open just enough for her to squeeze through and then turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the foyer.

"Perfect," Andy mumbled, her shoulders slumping as she closed the door and then followed him through the house.

She found him in the kitchen, pouring what looked like scotch into a small glass. "Oh, that was a great decision," she muttered sarcastically, taking off her gloves and tossing them on the counter. "Really good idea, switching from beer to liquor. You're going to feel wonderful in the morning."

He looked at her and then silently lifted the glass to his lips, pointedly drowning the entire thing in one gulp. The alcohol burned on the way down and settled like a heavy weight in his stomach, but when he finished he cleared his throat and set his glass back on the counter, ready to fill it again.

"Okay," Andy said, taking the scotch bottle from him. "How much of this have you had?"

She understood why he was doing it; everyone reached a breaking point at some time or another and Sam seemed like the type of person who just played like everything was fine and under control until he just… broke. She felt more than a little guilty that she had been the final push to get him there but didn't delude herself into thinking she was the only cause.

In a way, it would have been nice if her outburst at the bar had been the cause; it would have meant he wasn't dealing with all the other crap that he was dealing with.

He snatched the bottle back from her but didn't refill his glass. "Not enough."

"What was your plan?" Andy asked, crossing her arms in front of her. "Drink yourself into oblivion?"

"Considered it," he replied, his words remarkably clear.

Of course they were, Andy thought bitterly. It would take more than a little alcohol to make Sam lose his capacity of speech.

He leaned his hip against the counter and waved his hand, prompting her, "Let's hear it."

"What?"

"Whatever you came here to say," he replied. "I'm assuming it will be some self-righteous, indignant rant about women on the force and me ruining your career."

Maybe his speech was clear but his choice of words was undoubtedly affected. He could say hurtful things but he was never intentionally mean, at least not to her.

Andy pursed her lips, trying not to let him rile her up. "You're mad at me?" she asked. He shrugged in response. "Can I ask why?"

"Oh, I don't know Andy," Sam replied sarcastically, putting a bite on her name, "Has Boyd been better in the last few weeks?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"So, I took care of the situation," he maintained, his voice rising, "And I don't really appreciate getting yelled at in a bar because of it."

Andy flinched a little, recognizing that she may have overreacted. "What did you say to him?"

If he was surprised by her question or the change in direction, he didn't show it. "I told him to leave you alone," he responded simply, pouring more scotch into his glass.

"Or what?"

Sam shrugged and took a sip. "Or I would bring up things from the UC operation and put an end his career."

Her eyes flew up to meet his. "So you blackmailed him?"

"If that's what you want to call it," Sam replied unrepentantly.

Andy ground her teeth together, fighting to keep control of her temper. "How did you know he wouldn't report you? You could get into serious trouble for blackmailing a fellow officer."

Sam snorted. "Boyd's a pussy. He's not going to do anything. Look," he said, "You can't tell me that someone is messing with you and just expect me not to do something about it, okay?" He gestured to himself with both hands, "That's not who I am."

"I told you that I could handle it," Andy said quietly, tilting her chin up defiantly.

"Well, you were doing a piss poor job of it," Sam shot back, taking another swig and then setting his glass back on the counter so he could begin ticking off incidents off on his fingers, "Let's see, he yelled at you, he threatened your career, he didn't train you…"

"I know what he did, Sam," she said, rolling her eyes, "I was there."

He continued as if she hadn't said anything, "He grabbed you hard enough to bruise you, oh and let's not forget that he suggested you give him a blow job…"

"Why do you keep bringing that up?" She discreetly reached for his drink and poured the rest of the contents into the sink.

He didn't seem to notice. "Because it's wrong, Andy!" he yelled, throwing his arms out. "You run around trying to help anything that breathes but you're too damn stubborn to let anyone help you!"

His words slurred a little at the end and with the way he was waving his hands around, Andy thought that maybe he was little more drunk that he was letting on.

Her eyes widened. "Oh, _I'm_ the stubborn one?"

Sam clamped his mouth shut, his jaw hardening. "I did the right thing. Maybe it colored outside of the lines in that little rule book you love so much, but I'm not going to apologize, so if that's what you came here looking for, you can just forget it."

"Wow," Andy said, blinking twice to give herself a chance to process what he was saying. Drunk or not, she was slightly taken back by the words he words hurling her way. "I think that's more than I've ever heard you say."

He was silent, his arsenal of justifications for his actions apparently empty.

"I'm not looking for an apology," she said firmly.

He turned his head slightly and leaned forward, "What?"

"I'm not looking for an apology," she repeated. "That's not what I came here for."

He stared at her for a moment, his eyes going even darker than they already were, and then blinked, confusion and bewilderment written all of his face. "Seriously, for Christ's sake McNally, what in the hell is going on?"

She bit back a grin because it shouldn't have been funny and he was clearly not amused. "I had a lot of time to think about it on the walk home…"

"You walked home?" he asked, interrupting her and noticing for the first time that the tip of her nose was red and that her cheeks were wind burned.

"Well," she huffed mildly, "You were supposed to be my ride."

"I thought you would take a cab or get a ride from someone else or… I don't know, not _walk_," he said, moving to stand in front of her. "It's freezing outside."

"Yeah, I realize now it may not have been the smartest choice," she admitted, pausing when he reached out to cup her face in his hands. It wasn't tender like his touch normally was, he was kind of pawing at her face and squishing her cheeks together in a way that she was certain made her look like a chipmunk. Very attractive. "What… what are you doing?" she asked, her words coming out marbled.

"Your face is like ice," he said, moving his hands through her hair and over her ears, closing over them like earmuffs. It was like he was transfixed, the conversation… _argument_…. they were in the middle of forgotten as his primary objective became to warm her up.

He took a step closer, the heat from his body seeping through her coat before she felt him right up against her.

Out of their own volition, her hands came up to his waist and she fisted his shirt in her fingers, drawing him to her. "Well," she said weakly, feeling is warm breath on her face, "It's cold outside."

Sam's eyes were open and his expression was unreadable as he touched his forehead to hers. She held his gaze until his eyes fluttered closed and he lifted his head, softly pressing his lips first along her hairline and then down across her cheeks, peppering the prickled flesh with feather light kisses.

His lips closed over the tip of her nose like a hot, wet blanket and she thought that it should have felt a lot more awkward than it did.

Andy could feel his ridiculously long eyelashes brushing her skin and her breath hitched as he added his teeth to the mix, nibbling along the line of her jaw, suddenly not so gentle and soft.

His quest to warm her up was definitely working.

Her mind was starting to go fuzzy, pleasantly blank except for the feel of his mouth against her skin. Everything she planned to say about Boyd and about Brennan and about how Sam shouldn't have done was he did but she understood why he did it and how she was secretly kind of pleased about it in a very girly, embarrassing way slipped from her mind when she felt his tongue peek out and soothe where he had nipped at her just a little to hard.

"Sam…" she breathed, not sure why. Noise was muffled because his hands where over her ears, but the sound of blood rushing through her veins was amplified, echoing in her brain.

He didn't stop what he was doing, just hummed against her skin, waiting for her to continue with whatever she was going to say.

"I'm warm."

"Okay," he replied, drawing the word out and still not stopping.

She nuzzled his nose in response, directing his attention to where she wanted him and his lips finally came down on hers, parting them and kissing thoroughly, as if in the twenty-four hours since he had last kissed her, he had forgotten what she tasted like and needed to reacquaint himself immediately.

There was a shift in him suddenly; anger turned into hunger, confusion into desire.

Then he bit down on her lower lip, hard, and she thought that maybe he was still a little angry.

She made a noise in the back of her throat and her hands fell to his waist, slipping beneath the waffle weave of his shirt. He hissed when she touched his bared skin but instead of pushing her away he used the lapels of her pea coat to pull her impossibly closer and when that still wasn't enough he impatiently worked the buttons down the front, groaning petulantly when the task took too long.

"Let me do it," Andy said testily, pushing his hands away and finishing the buttons herself. No sooner had she gotten the last one undone than his hands slipped across her shoulders, pushing the coat off. It hit the floor with a muted thud and his arms circled around her waist, deepening the kiss and leaning into her so much she felt like she was doing a back bend in the middle of his kitchen.

When she couldn't arch any further, she brought her hands to his shoulders and pushed him back, righting herself into a standing position again. It didn't seem to make a difference to him, because as soon as she was upright she felt his hands travel down over her rear to the backs of her thighs and he hitched her legs up around him, lifting her onto the counter and pushing her knees apart so he could step in between them.

Andy's leg fell open and she wrapped them around him, digging her heels into the backs of his thighs, letting out a whimper when she felt him press against her.

"McNally," he ground out, closing his eyes and letting his head fall briefly to her shoulder. He took a second but then she felt him pulling the neckline of her sweater over and she entertained the brief, fleeting thought that she hoped he wouldn't stretch it out. When his lips locked on to the sensitive skin he had revealed and he suckled on it, tonguing it a little, and biting down just hard enough to let her know he was there, she wanted to tell him that he could just rip the sweater in half if he would keep doing _that_.

He was mumbling something against her skin, something she could quite make out, and she squeezed her eyes shut and let her head loll back against the upper cabinet. Her fingers blindly traced frenzied patterns up and down the lean plane of muscle in his back and she took a long second to appreciate how solid he felt beneath her hands.

Somewhere in the dark recesses of her mind the thought that they shouldn't be doing this popped up.

She tried to ignore it, especially when his hands went to the hem of her sweater, lifting it and letting his fingers spread out around her narrow waist. No longer cold, his touch lit up her skin like fire, igniting the nerve endings beneath. His hands skated up her side, ghosting over her ribcage and the sides of her breasts and he gently pushed up on her arms. "Lift your arms," he said, his voice almost foreign and in a lower register than she had ever heard before.

Wordlessly, she obediently raised her arms over her head and he took a deep breath before slipping her sweater off, trailing his fingers down her arms as he ridded her of the garment, letting it fall to the ground. He stepped away from her and reached around to his back, gripping the material of his Henley in his hand and pulling it over his head in the way that boys do. Andy bit her lip, watching him through lowered lashes, and was strangely disappointed that he hadn't let her be the one to drag his shirt off of him, fingernails scraping up his back and over his broad shoulders.

No, this wasn't how it was supposed to be. She couldn't shut the nagging voice up. Worse, it was getting louder.

His shirt joined hers on the floor and he rejoined her at the counter, pulling her flush against him, chest to chest, skin to skin. Their lips met in a heated, frantic kiss, mouths open and tongues dueling. Without breaking the kiss, he lifted her into his arms again and let her toes barely graze the floor as he walked her into the living room. As soon as she felt carpet beneath her feet his arm reached down to cradle her against him and he dropped to his knees, one and then the other, before gently stretching her out on the floor.

The sofa was too far away, apparently.

Ignoring the voice in her head that kept telling her to stop because _dear god _his body felt good against her, all muscly and strong and warm, she hiked one leg up and around his waist, letting his hips settle in between her thighs. He was kissing her everywhere now, hungry and needy; she couldn't keep track of his lips and his hands and all she knew was that whatever he was doing was making her feel like she had currents of electricity running through her veins. In a good way. In a _very_ good way.

It was just that whenever he thrust against her, the carpet would rub the skin that covered her sharp shoulder blades a little raw and it stung just a tiny bit.

It was miniscule, really. She could barely feel it.

She didn't care, she told herself.

She didn't care. Carpet burns be damned, it didn't matter where or how because it was with _him. _

But then it happened again, the stinging, and she knew that _he_ would care.

In the morning, when he woke up and remembered through foggy, blurry flashbacks what had happened, he would undoubtedly be pissed and blame himself for taking advantage of her even though she was the stone cold sober one.

Or, even worse, a little part of him might always fear that he had forced himself on her. She knew that despite her fiercest protests to the contrary, he'd never forgive himself.

The last thing she wanted to do was heap another source of guilt onto his already heavily burdened shoulders. He was practically walking around with a hunch as it was.

Plus, he was kissing her and moving above her like he wanted to get lost in her, like he just wanted to forget. Any other time she would be fine with that, encourage it even, but maybe not their first time. Maybe it was the impractical, naïve, hopeless romantic inside of her that thought that their first time should be about them, not about anything or anyone else.

She could be wrong, but Andy kind of thought that Sam might have a little hopeless romantic inside of him, too.

He was moving down her body, his lips were warm against her stomach and his tongue swirled around her tiny bellybutton, coiling tension right at her center and she told herself she was overthinking it.

But then one of his hands grasped at the hollow of her hip, arching her off the ground and she felt his other hand flick open the button of her jeans and start to slide the zipper down and that damn voice just got too loud to ignore. Summoning her strength, making herself focus through the dizzying haze of pleasure and desire he was expertly rousing in her body, she reached down to find something to grip.

"Sam…" Her fingers fisted in his dark hair and she tugged him up. "Sam," she said, brown eyes locking with brown eyes, "Is this really want you want?"

Confusion and about eight other emotions she didn't have time to process flickered across his chiseled face and then something snapped and he was off of her like he'd been electrocuted, falling to the ground beside her.

"Sam," she said, crawling over to him and up on him, "It's fine, I don't care…"

"No," he said, breathing hard, "You're right."

She let out a deep breath and fell half on top of him, pillowing her head on his chest and listening to the rapid thrumming of his heart.

"Andy," Sam said, fighting for control, "You need to get off of me."

Her brow furrowed and she propped her chin up, not understanding. "What? No, Sam, it's fine…"

"Andy," he repeated louder, grasping her shoulders and physically lifting her away from him, growling, "Get off."

She rolled to the side, unable to keep the hurt off of her face and suddenly very aware that she was half naked on his living room floor. She quickly zipped her jeans and redid the button before folding her arms in front of her, looking around self-consciously.

He groaned and threw his arm over his face, shielding his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, admitting hesitantly, "It's just been … well, a long time and you…" he shook his head and swallowed hard, "God, you feel so good."

She smiled a little at that. "Okay," she replied quietly, keeping her distance. She watched his chest rise and fall with every breath, each one getting shallower as the seconds ticked by.

It was too quiet. "I kicked in a door today."

His head fell to the side and he looked over at her, his expression blank.

She nodded and continued, "My first time. It was a crappy apartment door and it took a couple of tries and I think I may have pulled my hamstring a little, but…" she paused to breathe. "I did it."

Sam blinked. "What are you doing?"

"I'm rambling," she told him, talking fast. "It's what I do when I'm, you know, nervous. I've been told I'm pretty good at it. Paperwork, too. I've been told I'm very good at paperwork."

That got a little smile out of him, the corners of his mouth just barely curling up. "Epstein sucks at paperwork."

"That's cause his parents were hippies," Andy said, laughing lightly. "Didn't believe in structure or routine."

"His spelling is atrocious."

"He spells how he feels," Andy replied with mock wisdom. "He's not confined by a silly little thing like a dictionary."

Sam chuckled and Andy grinned widely, pleased that she was able to draw the sound out of him.

The laughter died down and he crooked his finger at her. Andy raised an eyebrow, not moving, teasing, "You gonna be able to control yourself?"

"Well, Epstein's better than a cold shower, so…" he shrugged.

Andy smiled and scooted over to him, snuggling up beneath the nook of his shoulder and throwing her arm over his chest.

The arm she was laying on curled around her, his fingers getting lost in her mess of hair, and he reached his free hand over to slowly rub his knuckles up and down the arm she had slung across his chest.

It was a nice change of pace. Almost peaceful.

He felt her shiver. At first he thought that maybe she was ticklish but then she did it again when he wasn't even touching her. "Cold?"

She nodded against him.

"All my hard work gone to waste…" he muttered, leaning up and stretching over so he could pull a blanket off the sofa. He covered them with it and then settled back down beside her.

She looked up at him and the angle she was at made the scar beneath his eye appear deeper than when she had noticed it before. Unable to stop herself, she reached up and brushed her thumb over it.

His muscles tensed beneath her but didn't tell her to stop, so she did it again.

"Oliver showed me Brennan's case file," she said quietly, flipping herself over onto her stomach so she could look at him.

"Ah," he said simply, understanding her sudden change in attitude.

She glanced down, watching the shapes that her fingers were drawing through the hair that sprinkled his chest. "I didn't know."

He was silent, waiting for her to continue.

"I shouldn't have yelled at you like that," she said finally. "In the bar." She took a deep breath and then exhaled shakily, looking up at him. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "S'okay."

Deep in concentration, formulating what she was trying to say, her mouth twisted to the side. "I don't like when I feel like other people have to fight my battles for me," she said, careful not to place any blame on him.

He looked down at her and his forehead creased. "It wasn't a fair fight, Andy. Boyd had the upper hand. He was doing that crap because he knew he could get away with it. Look," he licked his lips and then gestured between them, "You and me? Whatever this is?" she nodded. "It's like we're partners, okay?" he said, using a example he understood. "You've got my back and I've got yours. Someone messes with you, they mess with me."

"Partners?" She questioned, arching an eyebrow and smirking a little. "So we're work buddies, just without the work?"

"I'm not functioning on all cylinders right now," he grumbled. "It's the best I could come up with."

"No," Andy said, gently laughing. She doubted he'd be much better at putting their relationship into words even if he was, as he put it, functioning on all cylinders. "I get it. But we weren't _partners _when you went to his house."

"It was inevitable," Sam replied confidently.

Andy laughed skeptically. "Oh it was?"

Sam nodded and grinned smugly at her. "I'm very charming."

"I hadn't noticed," Andy said with a wide smile, spreading her hand out over his chest and then resting her head against him. His hand came up to her back, warm and comforting. "So why'd you punch him?"

"He pissed me off."

"I figured that," she replied. "Why?"

His hand stilled on her back. "I don't remember."

She lifted her head. "Yes you do," she claimed, narrowing her eyes. "What'd he say?"

Sam sighed and pushed the heel of his palm against his eyes. "I guess he figured there was something going on between us."

Andy's eyes widened. "Oh. So you punched him?"

"He called you mouthy, made some filthy comment about that," Sam muttered, "And asked if I was getting… shit, what did he call it?" he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember the specifics of the conversation. "It was some stupid rhyming thing, what was it?… Rookie nookie."

She let out a burst of laughter. "Rookie nookie? That's clever."

Sam stared at her. "It's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"Okay," Andy said, humoring him. "Well, I don't necessarily like what you did," she told him, "But it did help." She met his gaze and held it. "Thank you. For caring."

His hand tangled in her hair, cupping the back of her head, and he pulled her towards him so he could brush his lips against hers. "You're welcome."

Andy smiled and kissed him again before settling back down. "You hungry?"

"Not really," he replied, shifting around beneath her to a more comfortable position. "There are some takeout menus in the kitchen though, if you want order something."

"I thought you were Mr. Anti-Takeout," Andy teased.

"Why?"

"You cook almost every night," She replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"That's just cause of Lindsey," he said, yawning. "Sarah cooked all the time so, I don't know, I guess figured it would help her make the transition or something."

Andy looked up at him and smiled.

"What?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," she replied, scooting closer against his side. "Nothing. I'm not hungry. Let's just stay here."

As she suspected, it didn't take long for Sam to fall asleep, arms spread out and mouth gaping open slightly. When she was certain he was asleep, she laughed lightly and then pushed herself up, making her way to his room. She grabbed the two pillows off of his bed and, as an afterthought, pulled a sweatshirt out of his closet and tugged it over her head.

Back in the living room, she gently lifted his head to slide the pillow under it and then grabbed the television remote before making herself comfortable beside him.

Flipping through the channels, she ended up on some Lifetime movie that she watched until her eyelids got too heavy to hold open anymore.

Sam was squirming underneath her when she woke up the next morning. "Good morning," She said, yawning and blinking against the morning sun that was filtering in through the windows.

"Hey," he replied groggily.

She propped her chin up on his chest, taking in his still-bleary eyes. "Have you been awake long?"

"'Bout half an hour," he said, glancing at the clock on the DVD player.

"Why didn't you get up?" She grinned at him, teasing, "Were you watching me sleep?"

"No," he grumbled, "I just couldn't move without my back seizing up. I think I'm getting too old for this shit."

"What shit is that?"

"The getting drunk, passing out on the floor and waking up with a half naked woman on top of me shit."

"Ah," Andy said, pushing herself up so she could sit beside him, "Well, to be fair, we passed out well before midnight and I'm fully dressed, so it wasn't quite the night of debauchery you're imagining."

He looked at her. "You weren't wearing this the last time I saw you," he said, tugging on her sweatshirt sleeve.

"I borrowed it," she told him, tucking her cold toes beneath his back.

He blinked. "You just went into my closet and got it?"

She nodded. "Is that okay?"

He ignored her question. "And then you came back here and laid down with me?" She nodded again. "Even though you could have gone home and slept in your own bed?"

"Yes."

"The floor is hard and really uncomfortable."

"Well I wasn't just going to leave you alone," she said, rolling her eyes and picking at a loose thread on her pants. "And, you know," she smiled and shrugged, "We were supposed to spend the night together."

He sighed heavily and let his head fall to the side. "I'm sorry last night didn't work out like it was supposed to."

"How was it supposed to work out?" She asked, tilting her head to the side and looking at him with big, innocent doe eyes.

Sam smirked. "You know what I mean."

"You mean we were supposed to have hot and sweaty sex all night long?" She grinned when a look of shock widened his features.

He let out a strangled laugh. "Yeah, something like that."

"Yeah, I'm sorry too," Andy commiserated. She laced her fingers between his and winked, "But there will be other nights."

Sam squeezed her hand. "I can't believe you just went into my closet."

"Well, I can't believe you hang up your t-shirts," Andy said, laughing. "And organize them by color. I'd say you could go into mine but I think you'd probably have a heart attack."

"Why would I want to go into your closet in the first place?"

Andy grinned and wiggled her eyebrows, "You never know what goodies you might find in there."

Sam laughed and then grimaced, putting a hand to his head and squeezing his eyes closed.

"Headache?" Andy asked sympathetically. When he nodded her expression hardened and she replied mercilessly, "Well that's what happens when you drink full glasses of scotch like they're shots of tequila." Under her breath, but plenty loud enough for him to hear, she added, "_Idiot._"

"Hey," he said, tugging on her arm. "I have an idea."

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"How about you not yell at me, because your voice is about five hundred times louder than it normally is, and go make us some coffee."

"Fine, fine, fine," she said, standing up. "But only because I'm your _partner_." She put an emphasis on the last word and grinned a little, obviously teasing him for his choice of words from the night before.

He picked up the pillow beside him and hurled it at her as she squealed and jumped out of the way. "Don't you worry sweetie," Andy said playfully, "If someone messes with you, they mess with me."

Sam just groaned and pulled his pillow over his head. "Partner, my ass," he mumbled.

Andy returned a few minutes with two full cups of coffee. Sam sat up enough so he could drink it without choking and then laid back down, grunting as his muscles protested the movement. "I wish I didn't have to get up."

"You don't have to get up," Andy told him, stretching out beside him. "We could just stay here, watch movies all day. Look at the ceiling."

"I've got to get up," he said, even though he made no move to do so. "I've got to go get Lindsey."

"How about you let me go get her," Andy suggested. "We can spend the day together and you can…" she waved her hand around, "I don't know, have some alone time. Get off the floor. Sleep in a real bed. Take a hot shower." She wrinkled her nose. "Seriously, please take a shower."

His eyebrows drew together, "I don't know…"

"We can get lunch and maybe go to a movie or go shopping or something. It'll be fine," Andy assured him. She grinned up at him. "Just let me have your keys."

When Andy showed up at Oliver's house a couple of hours later, he answered the door and looked at her first in surprise and then in panic. "Did you kill him?"

"What?" Andy asked, her brow scrunching. "No, I didn't kill him. He's fine."

He glanced over her shoulder. "So he knows you're driving his truck? "

"Yeah," Andy glanced back at the truck. "I don't have a car and I'm picking Lindsey up, so…" she trailed off, shrugging.

"And you're sure he's not dead?"

Andy laughed, "I'm sure. He's fine." She paused and then added, "Everything's fine."

Oliver looked at her skeptically and looked back to the truck.

"Can I get Lindsey now, please?" Andy asked, sounding impatient.

Oliver blinked. "I'll go get her." Andy took a step forward and started to follow him into the house, but he raised a hand. "You just wait here."

Andy's eyes widened indignantly, but she did what he asked.

Oliver walked back through the house to his daughter's bedroom. "Hey Lindsey," he called, "Andy's here to get you."

"Oh, okay," she said, popping up from her spot on the floor. Her voice held just a hint of surprise but not as much as Oliver was expecting. "Just let me grab my bag."

"I'll help you," he told her, following her into the living room. While she was stuffing a sweatshirt and a pair of headphones into her bag, Oliver asked curiously, "So… your uncle and Andy?"

"What about 'em?"

"They seem to spend a lot of time together."

"Uh huh," Lindsey said, hoisting her packed back onto her shoulder and starting to walk towards the door.

"Are they…" He trailed off, not sure what he was asking. "Together?"

Lindsey stopped and turned around to face him. She grinned and raised a knowing eyebrow. "Oh yeah," she confirmed, nodding. "Totally."

Andy and Lindsey grabbed a bite to eat – _"My first cheeseburger in months," Lindsey moaned happily _– and then went to see a dance movie that was out in the theatres, one they knew they'd never convince Sam to go and see with them. When it was over, Andy asked Lindsey is she wanted to get some hot chocolate before they headed home and soon they were walking around a park, both clutching steaming paper cups in their hands.

"So, is my uncle mad at me?"

Andy whipped her head around to look at Lindsey, "No, why would you ask that?"

"Well, no offense, I mean… I've had fun, but it's kind of weird that you're the one that picked me up from Hannah's."

Andy shrugged, "I asked him if I could. I thought we could, you know, do some girly stuff."

They passed by a bench and Lindsey sat down, taking a sip of her hot chocolate before admitting, "I said some really mean things to him."

Andy sat down beside her. "Oh."

"Did he tell you what I said?" Lindsey asked timidly.

Andy decided to be honest.. "Yeah, he told me."

"I didn't mean it," Lindsey said, picking at the cardboard sleeve around her cup. "I was just… really mad."

"Deep down, he's know that," Andy replied. "But I think it still hurt to hear."

"Is that what he told you?"

Andy shook her head. "No, he never said that but your uncle…" she tilted her head from side to side, "He just wants to protect people, you know?" Andy couldn't help but think about the situation with Boyd. "It's his job but it's also kind of part of who his is."

"Yeah," Lindsey muttered, "I know, he's always been like that."

Andy was quiet for a moment, thinking. "He couldn't protect your mom," she finally said. When Lindsey looked over at her, she continued, "And I know he feels very guilty about that."

"It wasn't his fault."

"He's knows that, too," Andy said. "But it's still hard. It's not your fault either, sweetie," she said reassuringly, reaching out to rest her hand on the girl's back. "There was nothing that you could have done. You know that right?"

Lindsey ducked her head so that her hair fell in front of her face like a curtain and then nodded. "I know."

They were both quiet as they watched as a runner jog past them, footsteps heavy on the ground and breathing heavily.

Andy sighed. "You know how I told you about my mom?"

"Yeah," Lindsey weakly responded.

"Well, when she left, I was really sad, of course, but I was also really angry. I was so, so mad at her. I couldn't even think about her without getting angry. I still get angry sometimes," Andy admitted honestly. "But I think one of the reasons I was so angry was because I just missed her _so_ much."

Lindsey finally looked up and Andy could see the tears that were beginning to pool in the girl's eyes. "I miss my mom."

"I know you do sweetie," Andy said, pulling the girl to her, careful not to spill their hot chocolate. "Your uncle misses her, too. That's why you guys have to stick together. You can't take your anger out on each other."

Lindsey just nodded, not wanting to speak. Andy could hear her breathing steadily and knew she was trying not to cry.

"You know, your uncle's a pretty strong guy, but he's kind of a big softie sometimes."

Lindsey drew in a shaky breath and laughed. "I know."

"He doesn't like it when you're upset with him."

"I know," Lindsey replied, nodding. "I should probably apologize."

"I think he would appreciate that," Andy said, giving Lindsey a half smile.

Lindsey sat up and sniffled, wiping beneath her eyes. Then, in typical Swarek fashion, she tried to change the subject. "So are you guys together now or what?" she asked bluntly.

Andy's eyebrows sprung up. "How did you…?"

"My uncle's been really weird lately, like, happy weird. Whistling and stuff." Lindsey squinted into the sun, wrinkling her nose, "So it's either you or he's going through some strange mid-life crisis thing." She paused. "That and I totally know you guys were kissing in the foyer the other day. It's really dumb that you think I can't hear you when you're one room away."

Andy just laughed, unsurprised that Lindsey had figured it out. "Are you okay with it? Me and your uncle?"

"Do you promise not to dump him like stupid Monica did?"

"Well, I can't promise that we'll never break up," Andy replied. Lindsey's face fell. "But I can promise I'll do my best not to hurt him."

As Lindsey thought over what she said, the corners of her mouth began to tug outwards until she was smiling fully. "Okay," she said. "I guess that will have to do."

"Good." Andy grinned. "You ready to go home?"

"Yeah," Lindsey said, looking down at her cup, "My hot chocolate is cold."

Andy scrunched her nose as they stood up and began walking towards the truck. "Cold hot chocolate is gross."

"Totally disgusting." Lindsey agreed, throwing her cup into the closest bin. "I can't believe my uncle let you drive his truck. He must _really _like you."

They made it home and when they stepped inside, Sam greeted them in the foyer. "Hey," he said, taking their coats and hanging them in the closet, "Did you guys have a good day?"

They both nodded and then, out of nowhere, Lindsey stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her uncle's waist.

Sam eyes widened in surprise but he just hugged her in return, patting her back lightly. They stayed like that a minute, Lindsey's scrawny arms tight around him, and then she coughed and stepped back. "Okay," she said. "I'm just going to go put my stuff up and change."

"Dinner's almost ready," Sam told her, watching her head up the stairs.

"Okay!" Lindsey called back down.

Sam looked over at Andy and raised an eyebrow. "That was weird."

Andy just shrugged, giggling as he hooked a finger through her belt loops and pulled her against him, circling his arms around her. "You look a lot better than the last time I saw you," she letting her arms twine around his neck.

"Well," he said, grinning at her widely before kissing her forehead, "I'm sober," and her right cheek, "and I slept in a bed," and her left cheek, "and I showered," and her chin, "and I had a little, uh … what was it you called it?" he waggled his eyebrows, "Sam's happy time?"

Andy let out a snort of laughter that was cut off when he finally kissed her on the lips. She smiled against him and when he pulled away she teased, "No one wants to think about that."

"But you are," he claimed, brushing her hair off her neck and nuzzling the hollow between her collarbone and throat.

Andy rolled her eyes. "Oh, am I?"

"Mmmhmm," he murmured, slipping his hand into the back pocket of her jeans and pulling her closer, her hips bumping into his.

The stubble on his jaw was tickling her neck and she giggled while asking, "And how do you know that?"

Sam looked pointedly down to her chest and she cursed her body for betraying her.

"Maybe I'm just cold," she said defensively, arching her back so she could cross her arms in front of her. "It's drafty in here."

"Why are your cheeks so red then?" He asked, brushing the rough pad of his thumb against the flushed skin.

"Maybe… I just…" she broke off with a frustrated groan, slapping his arm. "Shut up."

He grinned and dipped his head, hovering just over her lips, waiting for her to rise up to her tiptoes and meet him. "Come on," he whispered, "Don't be upset. I'm kidding."

Because she wasn't upset and didn't want him to think that she was, she rolled up on her toes and closed the distance between them, kissing him and tangling her fingers through the downy soft strands of his hair.

"Hey," he said, abruptly lifting his head and then chuckling at her half closed eyes and still puckered lips. He widened his stance a little, sinking down so he was eye level with her. "I'm fairly certain I remember most of last night, but just in case…" he paused, narrowing his eyes seriously, "We're good, right?"

Andy composed herself and then nodded, smiling. "Yeah," she promised, "We're good."

"Good," he said, leaning in and lightly nipping at her bottom lip before mumbling, "That's good."

He kissed her again, light little pecks against her lips that gradually deepened, soft and slow, until he felt something hard hit his back and then drop to the floor. "What in the…?" he turned around to see a sneaker lying on the ground.

"I'm coming down," Lindsey called, having obviously chucked the shoe at him from the top of the stairs. "So you guys can stop kissing now."

Sam looked back at Andy, "Did you tell her?"

Andy shook her head innocently. "She knew."

"How?"

"I'm twelve Uncle Sam," Lindsey said, coming up behind him. "Not stupid."


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Note: As always, thank you so much for your reviews on the last chapter! I am so glad that people are still enjoying this story and it really makes my day to read all of your feedback.

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.

* * *

><p>"So is Andy your girlfriend now or what?" Lindsey asked bluntly, her tennis shoes squeaking against the tile flooring as she shifted her weight from side to side. She had apparently decided that the most appropriate place to hold the conversation was in the middle of the canned vegetables aisle at the grocery store.<p>

It was Sunday morning, the day after Hannah Shaw's sleepover and Andy had to work, which left Sam and Lindsey on their own. When Sam told Lindsey he was going to the grocery store he'd expected her to beg off the trip but she insisted on going with him, just like she had ever since he'd mistakenly bought regular Oreos instead of the double stuffed kind.

_She was helping him unload the grocery bags when she noticed the package of inferior cookies and then held it up, silent and glowering. _

"_What?" he asked, glancing back at her vacantly from the opened refrigerator._

_She sighed and then narrowed her eyes. "You bought regular Oreos?" _

_He threw a couple of vegetables, a squash and an eggplant, into the crisper, clearly not grasping the seriousness of the situation. "That's what you asked for." _

"_Everyone knows you're supposed to get Double Stuf Oreos," She said, turning her nose up at the blue package. "I don't even know why they still sell these things." _

"_They're the same thing," he argued. _

_Lindsey looked at him as if he had not only personally offended her, but the Oreos as well. "Um no," she claimed, eyebrows raised and with a hand on her sassily cocked hip, "They're not." _

_Sam rolled his eyes but let the matter go. Later that evening, while they were watching television, he observed, dumbfounded but a little impressed by her commitment to the cause, as Lindsey remedied the situation. She twisted apart two Oreos, removed the cream filling from one and placed it on the other, and then reassembled the uber-Oreo, grinning at her own ingenuity. _

_The two leftover cookies, the top and the bottom of the disassembled Oreo, were tossed carelessly back into the package. _

_He didn't make a comment about it until the next night when Andy, who wasn't aware of their Oreo debate, twisted apart two cookies and did the exact same thing that Lindsey had done. Andy felt Sam's eyes on her and looked back at him innocently. "What?" she asked, her mouth full of chocolate cookie. _

_Lindsey glanced over to see what was going on and then looked at her uncle with a smirk. "Told you." _

Sam, who had been crouched down to grab a can of crushed tomatoes, stood up abruptly and looked over at her, his forehead creasing. "What?"

Lindsey was lazily draped over the end of the cart, her arms bent along the inside, hands on the edge to keep the metal from cutting up under her shoulders. She raised an eyebrow and then repeated her question slowly, like she was talking to a child, "So… is Andy your girlfriend now or what?"

She reminded him of her mother when she did that; the arched eyebrow with the slow _why-are-you-such-an-idiot _drawl. Sarah did it all the time.

"Um," Sam hesitated, not knowing how to answer because he didn't really know the answer. "Yeah, I guess so."

He glanced down at the list in his hand and then pushed them two steps down to the artichokes before Lindsey could reply incredulously, "You guess so? You didn't ask?"

"I didn't slip her a note and ask her to check yes or no," he told her, squinting to read the labels on the cans. "If that's what you're getting at."

Lindsey rolled her eyes with such exaggeration that Sam couldn't help but wonder if she could see the back of her brain. "Boys don't even do that anymore Uncle Sam."

"Oh really?" Sam asked curiously. "What do you know about boys?"

"Don't try and change the subject," Lindsey replied quickly. She took a deep breath and then huffed, "It's fine if she is."

"Yeah?"

Lindsey nodded. "Yeah. It's just, you know," she poked her pinky finger through a small hole in the cuff of her hoodie and wiggled it around. "You could have told me."

Sam winced when he heard the hurt laced through her annoyed tone. "I was planning on it Lindsey, you just figured it out before I could get around to it. Sometimes I forget you're not five years old anymore," he told her, winking at the end.

She pursed her lips and looked away, not responding.

Sam stared at her for a moment, wondering what she was thinking, and then motioned for her to hop up onto the foot of the cart. She did and he maneuvered them to the next aisle. When she hadn't said anything by the time they made it to the dried pasta, he picked up a package of spaghetti and bopped her over the head with it. "What're you thinking so hard about?"

Lindsey's hands immediately flew up to touch her hair. When she was satisfied that he hadn't messed it up, she looked over at him and began uncertainly. "I don't want you to think that I don't like Andy. I do."

Sam nodded. "I know you do."

Her face scrunched and she looked away, intently studying the nutritional label on a box of jumbo macaroni shells. "Do you remember Greg?"

"Course I do."

Greg was Sarah's one and only serious boyfriend when Lindsey was little. He had a mustache that made Sam uncomfortable but overall he was a decent guy and at the time Sam wouldn't have been surprised if they had gotten married.

"Mom was really happy with him," Lindsey said with the faintest hint of a smile on her face. "And I liked him too, but I don't know…" she hesitated, "Sometimes it kind of felt like I was in the way."

Sam's brow drew together, the conversation suddenly taking a far more serious turn than he had anticipated. "Lindsey," he said, coming to stand in front of her and taking her by the shoulders, "Is that why you think I didn't tell you? Because I thought you would get in the way?"

Lindsey just shrugged.

Sam's mouth gaped open but before he had the chance to say something, a lady behind him loudly cleared her throat. He looked back at her and she raised a pointed eyebrow, nodding towards his cart. Sam fought the urge to roll his eyes, the woman had plenty of space to get by, and shifted his cart and Lindsey closer to the shelves.

In a way, he was thankful for the interruption, for a moment to gather his thoughts. Put him in an eight by ten cinder-block room with a perp that needs cracking and words come easy. Stand him in front of an emotional and insecure twelve year old in the middle of Sobey's grocery store and suddenly he goes dry-mouthed and tongue-tied.

"Look, Lindsey, you are not in the way," he assured her, crouching down so he could meet her at eye level. "Okay? You're not."

"I just don't wanna like… I don't know, cramp your style, that's all."

"Cramp my _style_?" he repeated, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice.

Lindsey's shoulders slumped and she looked away, embarrassed. "I know you didn't really think you were going to get saddled with a kid when you signed…"

"Hey," he said, shaking her a little to stop her train of thought. "Cut that out. Don't say stuff like that."

She blinked purposefully, trying to keep her eyes from tearing up and looking anywhere but at him.

"I am not saddled with you," he told her firmly. Cracking a smile to lighten the mood, he continued, "If anything, you're the one that's saddled with me."

She let out a laugh and then sniffed loudly. "That's kinda true," she said, running her hand under her nose, "You're sorta a mess without me."

"Hey now," he said, feigning insult as he stood back to his full height, "I got Andy didn't I?"

"Oh please," Lindsey snorted. "You don't even know if she's your girlfriend or not."

Sam began pushing the cart again, grinning, "What? Think I should ask her to go steady or something?"

"Oh yeah," Lindsey agreed sarcastically, smirking, "You should probably give her your class ring, too." Sam just chuckled, thankful that it seemed he had been able to diffuse the situation. They continued wandering through the store, bickering back and forth about what to buy.

"Ugh, Uncle Sam," Lindsey said, turning her nose up in the refrigerated poultry section, "Please buy organic chicken."

"It's two dollars more per pound," he replied. "No way."

Lindsey stood in front of the cart, preventing him from moving on. "Do you know what they feed those chickens?"

"Nope."

"They give them hormones and steroids to make them grow fatter," Lindsey told him with an air of expertise.

"And tastier," Sam shot back jovially.

She ignored him. "Do you know what those hormones and steroids do to girls my age?"

"Umm… make you too smart for your own good?" he suggested, raising his shoulder and making a face.

Lindsey scowled at him, not amused. "Premature puberty."

"Oh geez," Sam said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'm just saying, if you want me to start getting boobs…"

"Okay, okay," Sam interrupted her, smiling uncomfortably and quickly switching the packages of chicken. "Organic chicken it is."

They were standing at the check out till when Lindsey's eyes widened dramatically and she dropped behind the counter with a sharp intake of air.

"Lindsey, what in the…?" Sam looked around, trying to figure out what had caused the reaction. The store was relatively empty but he noticed that a mother and her son, a boy he guessed to be about Lindsey's age, had just entered and he realized what was going on.

His suspicions were confirmed when Lindsey poked her head up and quickly looked in their direction before crouching back down, gripping on to Sam's jeans for balance.

"You know him?" Sam asked, jerking his thumb in the kid's direction.

Lindsey reached for Sam's hand and shoved it back down to his side before nodding. "He's in my class," she whispered, squeaking a little bit. "Why is he even here?"

"You come with me," he replied, unconcerned that it looked like he was talking to himself.

"Well, you never buy the good stuff if I don't come with you."

"You're right, sustenance is highly overrated." The bored cashier rattled of the total and Sam swiped his credit card while trying to discreetly eye the boy that had gotten his niece into such a tizzy. When he disappeared into the produce section, Sam looked down at Lindsey. "He's gone, you can get up now."

She stood carefully, glancing around to make sure he wasn't lying to her.

"What? You got a crush that kid or something?" Sam asked curiously, something in his chest constricting at the thought.

Lindsey huffed and rolled her eyes. "No, I don't have a crush on him," she hissed in a tone that made Sam almost certain that she did in fact have a crush on him. "Come on," she said, loading her arms down with bags and making a hasty exit, "Let's go."

Sam glanced back in the direction of the boy and then followed his niece out of the store.

While Sam and Lindsey were enjoying their day off, Andy felt like she was sitting in the middle of her own personal hell.

Prisoner transport. Ten hours in the car with Boyd, five of those alone.

Boyd had briefed her on the rules for the transport during the first hour of the drive and then they sat in silence while she read over the prisoner's file.

"Ray Donald Swann," she said, reading from the papers in her hand. "Doesn't sound much like a criminal's name. Swann."

Boyd didn't respond which didn't surprise Andy; he never really went out of his way to make conversation.

The car was quiet again and once Andy had occupied herself by reading over the file three different times, she closed it and folded her hands in her lap.

The silence gave her time to think, which wasn't necessarily a good thing. Ever since Oliver had shown her Jamie Brennan's file she hadn't really been able to push the images out of her head. Neither Oliver nor Sam had gone into detail about Boyd's involvement, but just knowing that he had been at least partially responsible for what had happened to Sam made a fresh wave of fury rise in her chest whenever she looked at him.

Plus, she was dying, _dying _to hear his side of things.

She spent the better part of an hour talking herself out of bringing it up, knowing that nothing good could come of it, but in the end her curious nature won out. She spent the better part of the next hour trying to figure out how she could get him to talk about Brennan without making her involvement with Sam, or her knowledge of their conversation about her, completely obvious.

"So," Andy said finally, hazarding a glance at her training officer. "I hear you know my neighbor."

Boyd didn't even bother to turn and look at her. "Who's your neighbor?"

"Sam Swarek."

He continued staring straight ahead but his fingers tightened around the steering wheel, stretching the leather driving gloves he wore at the knuckles. "Yeah, I know him."

"Did you guys ever work together?" Andy asked, dropping her head back against the headrest.

Boyd cut his eyes over to her. "What'd he tell you?"

She shook her head. "Nothing," she claimed. "He just mentioned the other day that he knew you, that's all. I take care of his niece sometimes, you just came up in passing."

"He didn't say anything else?"

Andy shrugged. "Not really. I mean, he's not much of a talker. You probably know that better than I do."

Boyd cleared his throat. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, we've worked together. A long time ago."

"Doing what?"

"Couple of UC operations," he replied, scrubbing his hand over his permanent five o'clock shadow.

"Undercover?" Andy repeated, sounding surprised and a little impressed. "Wow, what kind of cases did you work?"

"Drugs, mostly. Local stuff."

Andy could tell he was trying to answer her questions with as little information as possible. "Anything I'd know about?"

"Probably not," he answered sharply.

"Okay," Andy drawled, realizing she wasn't really getting anywhere. "Undercover work sounds kind of dangerous."

"Can be. I don't think you'll ever need to worry about it though," he replied with the sort of vague condescension that she had come to expect from him. "You're not really the undercover type."

Andy narrowed her eyes and tried a different tactic. "You know, my dad was a cop at fifteen with Swarek."

"Yep," Boyd replied, flipping his sun visor down, "I know _all_ about your dad."

Andy let the obvious dig slide. "He uh, he said there was one time that Sam came back kinda banged up from a UC op. What was the guys name?" Andy pretended to think. "James or Jimmy or Jamie or something… I don't remember." She looked over at Boyd with wide-eyed, innocent curiosity. "Do you know anything about that?"

Boyd shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Yeah, I worked that one with Sam."

"What happened?"

He swallowed hard, making a harsh sound in the back of his throat. "Sammy got in over his head, slipped up a little bit, that's all. It's happens."

Andy's hair stood on end and it took everything in her to reply with an even, "Oh." She knew if she continued asking more questions Boyd would get suspicious, even more suspicious than he already was, so she leaned back in her seat and casually asked, "So, why'd you go back into uniform?"

The muscle in his jaw twitched at the question. "I like working the streets," he told her, reaching over to turn the radio on in a blatant indication that the conversation was over.

Andy nodded slowly and then looked out the passenger's side window. "Okay."

Several hours later, Andy holed herself up inside of a small bathroom and turned the lock on the door. She checked under the cheap metal stalls, making sure she was alone, and then pulled her phone out.

Sam answered and, without preamble, she whispered, "Sam, guess where I am right now?"

There was a pause on the other end and Andy could practically hear Sam rolling his eyes. "Where are you?"

"The women's restroom at the Sudbury District Jail," she said quietly, covering her mouth and speaking directly into the phone as if someone might be listening to her conversation.

"Why are you in Sudbury?" There was a slight inflection to his voice, enough to make Andy think that she had gotten his attention.

"Because," she whined, "My plan to avoid Boyd today completely and totally backfired."

"That in no way helps me understand why you are in Sudbury."

Andy let out an exasperated sigh. "Today in parade they asked if anyone wanted to stay behind from normal patrol," she explained, fidgeting with her bangs in the dulled mirror, "I raised my hand thinking they needed someone at the front desk or in booking or something."

"Okay..."

"Well, turns out they didn't need someone for desk duty, they wanted to send a rookie for a prisoner transfer so guess who's ending up spending ten hours in the car with the person they were trying to avoid in the first place?"

"You."

"Yes, me," Andy grumbled. "And they've screwed up the paperwork here on the Sudbury end, big surprise there, so we've been waiting for almost two hours."

"Ah, yeah, well. That happens sometimes."

Andy held the phone out in front of her and looked at it in disbelief for a moment before returning it to her ear. "Really, that's all you have to say to me?"

"Did Boyd go over the rules for picking up a prisoner?" Sam asked, immediately going into cop mode. "Don't get too cozy with him, always assume the body is dangerous and treat…"

"Treat him the same as he treats you," Andy finished for him. "Yeah, I know. We went over it like a dozen times on the way up here because Boyd's really worried I'm going to screw this thing up. Look," she said, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose, "I was hoping you'd be less like a _police_ partner and more like a…" _life partner _was on the tip of her tongue, but she caught herself and then refused to think of what the implications might be for how easily that phrase came to mind. "_Partner_ partner right now."

"Are you ever going to stop saying it like that?"

"Saying it like what?"

"_Partner_," he repeated, mimicking her tone, "Like you're secretly mocking me."

Andy chuckled. That hadn't been her intention but she enjoyed taking advantage of pretty much any opportunity she could get to tease him. "Oh Sam," she purred, "I'm not _secretly _mocking you."

"You're hilarious," he deadpanned.

"I'm just saying…" Andy continued, "I was half naked on top of you and you basically compared me to Dov Epstein."

"I'm fairly certain Epstein was the last thing on my mind at that moment."

"Fairly certain?" Andy repeated. "But not absolutely certain?"

"I don't know," Sam said and Andy could hear the grin in his voice. "We should probably try it again just so I can be sure."

"Yeah? Is that what you think we should do?"

"It's simple research McNally," he claimed.

"Oh right, of course." She smiled widely even though he couldn't see her. "I'm just kidding about the partner thing," she assured him. "I like it." She'd be lying if she said she wouldn't appreciate a bit more definition, but right then she would take what she could get. "It's nice."

"Yeah, well…" he trailed off. There was a stretch of silence, as if he had wanted to say something but then decided against it. "Why were you trying to avoid Boyd in the first place?"

_Because of the almost overwhelming desire to rip his head off. _Andy scrunched her nose. "Self preservation. It's kind of a habit now. Look, I should probably be going," she said reluctantly. "He's gonna start to wonder what I've been doing in here."

"What time do you think you'll be back?"

"Late," she answered, looking at her watch. It was almost four and there was still a five-hour drive back, plus processing once they got there. "Probably ten or so."

"You want me to pick you up?"

Andy was surprised by the offer and she couldn't keep the pleased smile off her face. Still, she answered, "That's probably not the best idea."

"Why not?"

Andy hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek. "I may have mentioned that we were neighbors today to Boyd and kind of made a point that it was nothing more than that. He might think it was odd if he saw my totally platonic neighbor picking me up."

Sam groaned into the phone. "Why would you even bring me up in the first place?"

"Did you forget the part where I was trapped in the car with him?" Andy asked incredulously. "I had to talk about something. Don't worry, I didn't say anything incriminating. "

"Uh huh." She could hear the uncertainty in his reply. "Fine, I won't pick you up but take a cab, okay? Don't walk home."

"I will," she promised.

"And come over here when you get home."

It wasn't really a question but Andy asked, "You sure? It's gonna be late."

"McNally…" there was a hint of warning in his tone.

"Okay," she grinned. "I'll see you later. Bye."

"Bye."

Later that night, Sam barely had time to get the door all the way open before Andy's launched herself at him and wrapped her thin arms around his neck.

He took half a step back, slightly thrown off balance by her weight, but then righted himself and circled his arms around her waist, chuckling, "Hello to you, too."

She pressed her face into shoulder. "Did I wake you?" she asked, her words muffled.

It was even later than she had expected it to be when she got home and although the porch light was on his house was dark and quiet.

"No," he assured her, running his hand slowly up and down her back. "I was up."

She sighed and then lifted her head, pressing her lips against his. "Hi.

"Hi." He grinned and then kissed her back. "Long day?"

Andy just nodded.

"You hungry?"

She nodded again.

"If you want me to feed you, we need to go to the kitchen."

Andy muttered something into his shirt but made no attempt to move. Her arms were heavy around his shoulders, like dead weight, and she acted like she was expending too much energy just standing there. Sam laughed gently at how pitiful she was, late at night and exhausted. "Okay, but don't get used to this," he warned, reaching down to draw her long legs up and around his waist. "I'm not your mule." She clung to him as he kicked the door closed and walked them back towards the kitchen, depositing her on the counter.

"What do you want?" He asked, opening the refrigerator.

Andy yawned and leaned back against the cabinet. "Anything, I'm easy." Sam shot her a wry look, smirk in place, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Not what I meant."

"Scrambled eggs it is then," he replied, grabbing the ingredients he needed.

He pulled out a green pepper and Andy raised an eyebrow. "Are you eating too?"

"Nope," he answered. "I ate dinner like a normal person."

Andy wrinkled her nose and jutted her chin towards the pepper, shaking her head. "Fine," he said, taking the hint. He replaced the pepper and then pulled out a bag of shredded cheese. "Cheese okay?"

Andy grinned and nodded. "Always."

Sam cracked a couple of eggs into a mixing bowl and then handed it to her along with a fork. "Whisk," he instructed.

"I can't believe you're trusting me with this," she muttered, concentrating on not letting any of the egg spill over the side. She held her tongue between her teeth like he had seen her do when she was carving pumpkins.

"It's kind of hard to screw up," he said, setting a pan on one of the eyes of the stove. He turned it on, letting it heat up, and then took the bowl from her. He poured its contents into the pan and sprinkled the whole thing with cheese and salt and pepper.

Andy was quiet, watching him. "Where's Lindsey?"

"She's upstairs, asleep," Sam said, pushing the eggs around in the pan with a spatula. "So how was the ride back?"

"It was fine," she said, yawning again as she pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. "The guy we were transporting, Ray Donald Swann, talked a lot… all this philosophical mumbo jumbo nonsense about having a beginner's eye or something like that. I don't even know. I thought he was going to drive Boyd absolutely crazy but at least it kept things interesting. "

Sam nodded and used the spatula to spoon the cooked eggs onto a plate. "And Boyd was okay?"

"Yeah he was fine," Andy told him, reaching to grab a fork out of the drawer beside her and then eagerly taking the plate from Sam. "I think I owe you an apology though."

"Oh yeah? What for?" he asked, quickly rinsing the pan out in the sink.

"The whole thing with Boyd," she replied, stabbing at the eggs.

Sam looked over his shoulder back at her. "I thought we were done with that."

"We were," she said. "Until I saw him today."

"Okay." Sam dried his hands and then moved to stand in front of her, bracing himself on either side of her legs.

She hooked one of her knees around him, pulling him closer. "I saw him coming out of the locker room before parade – "

"Uh huh."

"And Sam, I'm not kidding," she said seriously, gesturing to herself with the fork, "I wanted to kill him."

Sam let out a sharp laugh, "Oh yeah?"

She nodded and took a bite before continuing, "I wanted to seriously, seriously hurt him. I've really only ever fantasized about killing one other person but today I spent probably eight hours thinking of all the different ways I could off him."

"I'm not gonna lie McNally, that's kind of disturbing," Sam said, running his hands up the outside of her legs.

"I know!" She exclaimed. "Trust me, as much of an ass as he is, I've never actually considered how I could go about getting rid of him."

"What was your favorite way?" Sam asked, not really sure he wanted to know the answer.

"Poison oak," Andy replied matter-of-factly and without hesitation. "Lots of it. Let him scratch himself to death."

Sam blinked. "Wow."

"We were driving through the woods, okay?" she said, shrugging and finishing off her eggs. "It was… inspirational."

"And a little bit crazy."

"Yeah," Andy agreed, "I know. I've disturbed myself multiple times today."

Sam grinned and leaned in, just enough to brush her lips with his. "So, what you're saying is…"

She set her empty plate down on the counter and the rested her hands on his shoulders. "I understand why you did it, okay? Why you went to him."

"You do?" Sam asked, nipping at her bottom lip.

She nodded and let her fingers tangle through his soft hair as she tipped her head back, letting him work down the column of her throat, "Yeah. I do. And I'm sorry I made such a big deal about it…"

"It's okay," Sam said, suddenly very interested in the spot where her shoulder met her neck. "It's over."

"Well, there's actually something else I wanted to talk to you about," Andy told him. His only response was to hum against her, so she used her grip on his hair to gently lift his head. When his eyes focused on hers she continued, "What would you think about me transferring to fifteen? In a few weeks after I'm cut loose?"

Sam stared at her for a moment, considering. "Is that what you want?"

Andy nodded, "Yeah, I think so. All my reasons for being not being there seem kind of…" she trailed off and then finally finished, "Well, like not very good reasons. And I know it may be unprofessional but I just don't think I can handle being partnered with Boyd permanently."

A small smile began to spread across Sam's face but she could tell by the way that his lips were twisting to the side that he was trying to fight it. "I think that would be fine," he replied neutrally.

"We might have to work together," Andy told him, raising an eyebrow.

"We might," he agreed, nodding slowly.

"And you'd be okay with that?"

Sam grinned fully. "Yeah McNally, I'd be okay with that."

"Good," she said, beaming. "I'll put in a request then." She tugged him closer and let him pull her to the edge of the counter before dipping her head down to kiss him, light and playful at first, deepening slowly.

"So," he murmured against her lips, "Who was the other one?"

"Hmm?"

"The other person you thought about killing?"

"Suzie Howard," Andy answered, squeezing her eyes shut as he kissed his way across her jawline.

"Mmmhmm," he pushed her hair off her shoulder and skimmed his lips over to her ear. "What'd she do?"

"Sixth grade," Andy said, the words coming out in a soft moan. "She pantsed me in front of the boys' basketball team."

"What a bitch," he muttered, taking her earlobe between his teeth.

"I was still wearing Hanes five pack, day-of-the-week underwear," Andy told him, her short fingernails digging into his shoulders through the shirt he wore. "People came up to me for months after that asking what day it was." Sam chuckled against the skin of her neck and her eyes flew open at the sound. "Jerk," she swore, slapping him on the shoulder. "It was traumatizing."

"Oh yeah," he said, locking her ankles around his back so he could lift her into his arms, one hand on her narrow back and the other firmly on her rear. "I'm sure it was."

Andy giggled as he began walking them into living room. "We have to be awake in like," she checked her watch over his head, "Six hours."

"I'm not going to do anything," he said, stretching her out on the sofa and grinning as she widened her legs to make space for him, pulling him on top of her. "I just, you know," he winked down at her and braced himself on his forearm, his fingers flicking open the button of her jeans, "Wanna see what day it is."


	15. Chapter 15

Author's Note: Thank you all so much for the reviews on the last chapter! Hope you enjoy this one!

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.

* * *

><p>Andy was jolted awake by the sound of her phone ringing. She reached for it, her hand fumbling over a pair of glasses and a half empty mug of tea that sat on her bedside table, and finally pressed it to her ear. "Hello?" Still half asleep, the greeting came out scratchy and hoarse.<p>

"Andy?" Sam's voice was clear on the other end of the line. "Did I wake you up?"

Squinting to read her watch, she noted with a groan that it was several hours passed when she normally woke up, even on her days off. She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed forcefully, wetting her dry throat. "No," she claimed, her voice cracking again, "No I'm up."

"You are a terrible liar."

"Yeah," she said around a yawn. "Yeah, you've mentioned that before."

"What are you… trying to make up for lost time or something?"

Andy's eyes narrowed on their own accord. He knew very well that that was exactly what she was doing and she imagined that if she were to be standing in front of him his cheeks would be dimpling with that smug grin of his.

Her shifts had been long and she'd started the week more than a little sleep deprived, what with the night she'd spent on the floor, the late return from Sudbury and Sam's very loose interpretation of what "_I'm not going to do anything" _meant.

_He meant the exact opposite, apparently, which she realized when he worked the zipper on her jeans down and then thumbed the tiny bow at the top center of her underwear. "McNally," he murmured into her ear, tucking her head down into his shoulder, "You have to be quiet." _

"Shut up," Andy used her free hand to push herself up in bed and then drew her legs up to her chest. "I'm awake," she insisted, propping her chin up on her knee. She pressed the heel of her palm against her forehead, trying to massage away the fog that had settled in her brain. "What's up?"

"Look, I know today's your day off and I'm sorry to ask you…"

"Sam," she said, interrupting him. "What did you need?"

"Lindsey's school called," Sam told her. "She's running a fever."

"And you need me to pick her up," Andy concluded, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She stood up and stretched her arms over her head, groaning as her muscles protested and her joints cracked.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "I would go but I can't get away right now…"

"It's fine," she said, already making her way into the bathroom, hissing when her feet came in contact with the cold linoleum. "I don't mind."

"You don't have to stay with her once you get her home, I know you probably have stuff to do."

Andy rolled her eyes. No matter how many times she had happily agreed to watch Lindsey, he still acted like he thought it might be a huge inconvenience. "Yeah," she muttered sarcastically, "She's really gonna interrupt my plan to free up some space on my DVR."

"You don't have a DVR."

"You know what? You're right." Andy made a face when she looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was still a damp mess from her shower the night before and there were dark, puffy circles under her eyes; dead giveaways for the lack of sleep she had gotten the last couple of days. "I guess I'm completely free then."

He mumbled, "_Smartass," _under his breath and she just grinned. "Dumbass," she replied, laughing gently. "When are you going to stop acting like you and Lindsey are such a burden?"

She heard him suck in a sharp breath. "I, uh…" He paused for half a beat and then continued, ignoring her question, "I had to make you one of Lindsey's emergency contacts so that they'd let you get her."

"Oh," she replied, starting to pick through the tangled nest on top of her head, "That's fine."

"Yeah, so." There was another pause. "Make sure you take your I.D. and if they ask, you're my girlfriend."

Andy's fingers stilled in her hair. "Girlfriend, huh?" She repeated lightly, a smile slowing spreading across her face. "Is that what I am?"

"According to Don Mills Middle School, that's what you are."

Andy bit the inside of her cheek. "And according to you?"

"Andy," he sounded conflicted, like he was trying to figure out how to answer the question to her satisfaction without getting into that particular conversation over the phone and while he was at work, "This really isn't the time…"

She knew he was probably pinching the bridge of his nose and that the wrinkles around his eyes were deepening. For some reason, she decided to let him off the hook. "What happened to _partner_?"

Sam chuckled a little on the other end. "It wasn't one of the options."

"Well I guess girlfriend works too," she said casually, wedging the phone between her shoulder and her ear so she could pull her hair up into a twisted knot and secure it with a clamp. "Does Lindsey have a house key?"

"I was thinking you could just swing by the station," Sam suggested. "It's on the way and you can pick up the truck and the keys to the house."

"I can do that," Andy said, reaching into the shower to pull out her face wash. "I'll be there in like, twenty minutes."

"Just call me when you get here," Sam replied. "I'll come out and meet you."

"Sounds good," Andy agreed. "See you then."

Sam pushed the button to end the call and then slipped the phone back into his pocket. He turned to find Oliver standing behind him, leaning nonchalantly against the wall wearing an expression that was a mix somewhere between amusement and offense. He took a large bite of the sub he was holding, licking a drop of mayonnaise off of his finger, and then held the sandwich out to make a point, "I thought I was Lindsey's emergency contact."

"You still are," Sam assured him, rolling his eyes. He started down the hallway, unsurprised when Oliver fell in step beside him. He eyed the sandwich. "It's not even ten o'clock."

Oliver raised an eyebrow warily and sucked a piece of lettuce from his teeth. "And?"

"Were you eavesdropping on the entire phone call?"

"Sure was _girlfriend_," Oliver responded, putting a twang on the last word so it came out more like _gurl-fran_. "You have some explaining to do."

"What's it gonna take for me to get out of this conversation?"

Oliver shrugged. "Just tell me what's going on with you and McNally."

Sam stopped in front of interview one and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Why don't you ask Lindsey?"

"She told you about that, huh?" Oliver had the decency to appear somewhat sheepish, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand.

"Yeah, she did. Listen," Sam said, ducking his head and lowering his voice, "Andy's looking to transfer to fifteen. I don't want anything to screw that up so… not a word, okay?"

Oliver snorted. "How can I say a word when I don't know anything?" he asked, hunching forward and whispering conspiratorially.

Sam thought about it for a moment and then smirked. "Good point," he said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. He glanced down at the file in his hand and then pushed the door to the interview room open, "Andre Malone, fancy seeing you here again…" his mockingly cheerful greeting was cut off when the door swung close.

"Ass," Oliver muttered to himself, taking another bite of his sub. "He's an ass."

Sam had asked her to meet him as his truck, so when the taxi dropped her off Andy started making her way to the back parking lot but then stopped in her tracks when she saw Luke getting out of his car.

Save for an uncomfortable encounter in the women's restroom at Penny, she hadn't seen him since the breakup. She wasn't even certain that he had noticed her then, what with how preoccupied he'd been with lifting Jo against the wall and hiking her legs up around his waist.

Jo had seen her though. Andy had been rooted to her spot despite how furiously her brain had tried to tell her legs to move, and when Jo's head had rolled to the side they'd made some of the most intense and awkward eye contact Andy had ever experienced. Jo just smirked and traced her tongue along the shell of Luke's ear, watching Andy with a triumphant glint in her eye the entire time.

Luke made a noise she'd never heard from him before, but then again she'd never climbed him in a public bathroom either, so it was possible it was just a context thing. He didn't really seem like the sex-in-a-public-place type, at least not when they were together, but before Andy had too long to dwell on it she heard Traci approaching behind her, the sound knocking her out of her daze. She swiftly pulled the door closed and then assured Traci that she did not want to go in there.

Unbidden, flashes of that night came to mind again as she watched Luke make his way towards the entrance of the station, briefcase in hand and cellphone at his ear. Before she could duck behind one of the concrete columns that separated the parking lot from the sidewalk, Luke caught sight of her.

She watched his stride falter slightly when he recognized her, a pause and a half step that threw off his normally confident swagger, but then he straightened his spine and seemed to ready himself for the inevitable conversation. He said something into the cell phone before pulling it away from his ear and punching a button to end the call. "Andy," he called out, four long steps away from her, forcing a genial tone.

She approached him apprehensively, chewing on the inside of her bottom lip.

When he reached her he stopped walking and asked, "What are you doing here?"

Andy briefly wished she'd spent half a minute to swipe some concealer on under her eyes, make him see what he was missing and all that. "Um…" she paused, bringing her hand up over her eyes like a visor to block the morning sun. She decided to stick with the honest answer. "Well, Lindsey's sick so Sam's letting me take the truck to go pick her up from school."

"Lindsey, right," he mused slowly. "So, you and Swarek, huh?" He chuckled a little, low and dry. She wasn't quite sure what it meant, but she had never been very good at reading him. "Guess I called that one."

Andy didn't bother to deny it but instead set her jaw, steeling herself. "You and Rosati, huh?" she replied, mimicking his humorless tone. "Guess… well, _everyone _called that one."

She shook her head and started to walk past him but he let out a heavy sigh and grabbed hold of her arm, stopping her. "Andy, wait."

Andy turned to him and squinted, waiting for him to continue.

"I… uh," he paused and scratched at his forehead. "No matter what anyone says, it didn't start again until after we were done, me and Jo."

Her gut told her that he was telling the truth and if she was completely honest with herself, aside from the embarrassment that came from everyone being able to say "told you so", she really didn't harbor strong feelings towards Luke one way or the other. She hadn't given him, or the status of his relationship with Jo Rosati, more than a cursory thought in the last couple of weeks.

Andy nodded and gave him a half smile, a sort of peace offering. "I believe you." She wasn't sure why she felt the need to offer similar reassurance, but she heard herself saying, "Sam and I didn't…"

Luke raised a hand to stop her. "Yeah, I know."

They stared at each other for a couple of awkward moments; neither having anything else to say but not knowing how to exit gracefully.

As Andy rolled back and forth on her feet, something occurred to her that she hadn't yet considered; if she moved to fifteen not only would she be working with Sam, she'd be working with _Luke. _

The fact that that little detail had failed to make it on to her fairly extensive mental pro/con list was further evidence of just how far off her radar Luke Callaghan really was.

"Hey, um, Luke?" She hesitated and he looked down at her, his eyebrows raised expectantly. "I've been thinking about putting in for a transfer to fifteen," she told him, craning her neck to meet his gaze. "I'm not, like, asking your permission to do it or anything, I just… wanted to give you a heads up."

Luke smirked. "Just can't take it anymore, huh?"

The hair on the back of her neck stood up and she felt herself prickle at the insinuation that she was running away from something. She shook her head, "That's not…"

"Andy," he said, his expression softening a little, his features opening up. "I'm just kidding."

"Oh, okay," she replied, smiling uncomfortably. "Well, now you know."

"Now I know," he agreed, nodding sharply. "And I think it'll be fine. You and me," he gestured between them and then clarified, "Working together. I think we'll will be fine."

Andy's smile relaxed and became more natural, more genuine. "Good," she said. "That's good."

"I'll just have to prepare Jo now," Luke told her, laughing lightly.

"Yeah," Andy said, tilting her head and scrunching her face, "I don't really think she's my biggest fan."

Luke shrugged. "Hey, if Swarek and I can work together without killing each other, you guys'll be fine. Speaking of…" his attention was drawn over Andy's shoulder and when she turned to follow his gaze, she saw Sam coming out of the sally port, walking towards them. He looked back at her and smiled. "I'll see you later, Andy."

"Bye, Luke." She watched him walk away and tip his head to Sam when they passed. As she stood on the dark pavement, waiting for Sam to reach her, she was struck by the image; saying goodbye to one man and hello to another.

As Sam drew closer, strikingly handsome in his police blues, her smile grew wider. "Hi," she said when he came up beside her.

Sam smiled back but instead of reaching out to take her hand or settle his arm around her shoulders or touch her in anyway at all, he held out a set of keys. "Here you go."

Her face fell a little as she took the keys from him. It was just odd that he didn't touch her. Normally, even when Lindsey was around, he always found some reason to get his hands on her.

"Thanks," she said, jingling them at her side.

"Do you know where the school is?" His tone was nice enough but he was keeping his distance, somewhat standoffish.

Andy furrowed her brow, immediately fearing that he had seen her talking to Luke and had gotten the wrong idea. Irritation crawled up her spine. "Yeah," she answered flatly, "We drive by it all the time on patrol."

"Okay, good," he said. "I'm going to get away as soon as I can, but it might take a while. I've uh, got a suspect in interview right now." He didn't sound upset, just… reserved.

"Well, go ahead and get back to it then," Andy told him, turning to walk towards the truck, unsure of why she was so put off by his demeanor.

He surprised her when he followed, hands shoved firmly into his pockets, and then held the driver's side door open for her while she climbed inside.

"Thanks for doing this McNally," he said, watching as she adjusted the seat and then the rearview mirror.

_McNally, _really? Blank and emotionless, like he was saying _Epstein _or _Diaz _or _pass the potatoes. _

Andy smiled back at him, bright and obviously fake, and then reached out for the door handle. "No problem, _Swarek_." He jumped back to let her slam the door closed and as she drove away she could see the deep lines of confusion etched in his forehead.

It didn't take long to pick up Lindsey, run by the drugstore to grab some cold medication and Kleenex (the real stuff with lotion, not the "_generic kind that's like rubbing your nose with sandpaper" _that Lindsey claimed her uncle normally bought) and then get her settled in bed with a mug of hot peppermint tea and Youtube pulled up on the laptop propped between them.

"You think this kid's for real?" Lindsey asked, her red, watery eyes glued to the screen as she watched the teenager trash his room because his mother cancelled his World of Warcraft account.

Andy shrugged and then her eyes widened when the kid began taking his clothes off underneath a blanket. "Um, I don't know. I'm not really sure why he feels the need to strip down to his boxers though."

Lindsey let out a wheezing laugh that gave way to a coughing fit. She sat up in bed, folding herself over to rest her elbows on her knees, and tried to catch her breath. Andy stretched her arm out to settle it on the girl's back, rubbing gently as she calmed down.

"You okay?" Andy asked after a moment.

Lindsey nodded as she reached for a Kleenex and swiped it under her nose, groaning, "Ugh," she moaned, her words dulled and nasally, "I just hate not being able to breathe."

"Yeah, I know it sucks. I'm sorry," Andy murmured, waiting as Lindsey situated herself against her pillow again. "You want me to fix you some soup or something?"

Lindsey shook her head. "Maybe later," she said, clicking around on the keyboard. "Ever seen David after Dentist?"

That was how Sam found them a couple of hours later- Lindsey curled up beneath her comforter and Andy stretched out on top, the music score from some movie he didn't recognize mixing with the sound of gentle breathing and sharp, congested snores. Both had fallen asleep, Lindsey with a Kleenex clutched in her hand and Andy with fuzzy purple socks poking out from her (or were those his?) sweatpants, arm slung up behind her head.

They looked so cozy that Sam briefly considered sliding Andy to the middle and crawling in there with them, but then shook his head and decided that that would be weird. He stepped back out into the hallway and quietly closed the door.

He heard Andy plodding down the stairs not long afterwards, yawning and rubbing at her eyes as she entered the kitchen.

"Oh," she said, freezing when she saw him sitting at the table, "You're home."

Sam looked up and raised an eyebrow. "I am."

"I was just going to make Lindsey some soup," she explained, moving into the kitchen.

If possible, his eyebrow arched even higher. "_Make_ her some soup, huh?"

Andy rolled her eyes and pulled a can of chicken noodle from the plastic bag that sat on his counter. "I have to heat it up," she said, crouching down to grab a saucepan from one of the bottom cabinets. "It counts."

Sam watched as Andy opened the drawer to get out the can opener – he hadn't realized she'd been paying so much attention to where stuff was – and then flicked the stove on before setting the pan on the eye.

She stirred the soup quietly, frowning and purposely not looking at him.

Pretty much the only time Andy was silent was when something was bothering her and even then it was still fifty fifty whether or not she was going to talk his ear off about whatever was on her mind or sulk around, waiting for him to bring it up.

"McNally," he said evenly, which earned him a scowl, "Is something wrong?"

"Nope," she replied, popping the "p".

"Is this about the girlfriend thing from earlier? Sam sighed. "Because fine, sure… you're my girlfriend."

"Oh wow," Andy shot back sarcastically, still refusing to look at him. "I really feel special now."

Sam was quiet and just studied her for a couple of moments before moving across the kitchen. "Andy," he came up behind her and put his hand over hers, stilling her anxious stirring. "You just have to stir occasionally, not the whole time."

Andy jerked away from his touch but then tapped the spoon on the side of the pan and laid it on the counter, not particularly caring that it was going to make a mess. She turned to face him, crossing her arms in front of her chest, ready to pick a fight. "What was that in the parking lot earlier?"

"Oh," he said, boxing her in with one arm on either side of her waist, "You mean when you called me Swarek and then almost slammed my hand in the door?"

"What? Your name _is_ Swarek isn't it?"

"You never call me Swarek."

"Well," she stammered, "That's because it's a stupid, hard name to say, with the s and the _w_ and the _r_ together like that, my mouth doesn't naturally make that sound…" Sam just smirked at her the whole time and leaned in, his chest bumping against hers, which only served to irritate her even more. "Stop looking at me like that," she demanded, her hands coming up to his chest to keep him from moving in anymore.

"I have stupid name?" He asked, amusement dancing in his eyes, skin crinkling around the sides even though he wasn't grinning.

She pursed her lips and exhaled noisily. "Just your last name," she muttered, glancing around the kitchen. "Your first name's fine."

There was a stretch of silence, Andy's lips pressed together in a tight, annoyed line. "The soup's gonna burn."

Sam wordlessly reached over to flip the stove off and studied her again, noting the way a flush was creeping up her neck. "Are you mad at me about something?"

Her head whipped forward and she stared at him. "Are _you _mad at me about something?"

"No," he answered honestly, his lips at her temple.

Andy allowed her arms wrap around his neck, telling herself it was only because it was getting difficult to stand, what with how he was still leaning in and arching her back over the counter. She just needed to keep her balance, that was all.

"Then what was with the hands-off, buddy-buddy, _here are the keys_ crap?" Andy asked.

Infuriatingly, Sam just chuckled and backed away enough for her to straighten and stand upright. "Is that what this is about?" he asked. "You're upset because I didn't hold your hand?"

And yeah, when he said it like that it sounded a little ridiculous. "What? _No._"

"Andy," he said patiently, smoothing his hand through her hair. "Did you happen to see who was out in the parking lot?"

Andy thought back, trying to remember. The only person that came to mind was a blonde detective. "Luke?"

Sam snorted, like he'd have absolutely no problem whatsoever _holding her hand _in front of Luke. "No, not Luke," he said, starting to lean in again, "Best."

His lips were at her ear, tugging gently, so when she repeated him her voice came out shaky. "Best?"

"Uh huh. Staff Sergeant of the fifteenth division," he muttered. "The division you're trying to transfer into."

Of course.

"Oh," she replied meekly after a minute, feeling foolish. It probably wouldn't help her case if the staff sergeant thought she was transferring so she could work Sam.

"Yeah."

"So you weren't upset I was talking to Luke?"

Sam laughed against her, deep and hearty, and then pressed his lips to hers. "No," he said between kisses, still grinning. "Not even a little bit."

"So then this was just a misunderstanding?"

"Seems like it," he agreed, nodding.

She widened her stance and let her arms circle low around his hips, pulling him to her. Fighting a smile, she looked up at him hopefully. "Disregard?"

Sam grinned down at her, his eyes twinkling. "Disregard." He kissed her again and then abruptly pulled away. "Except for the stupid name thing," he said, smiling to let her know he was kidding. "That kinda hurt."

Andy pushed up to her tiptoes so she was eye level with him. "You don't have a stupid a name," she said, grinning. "I like your name."

An expression that was a little too serious passed across his face but before she had time to think about it he had blinked and boosted her up onto the counter, his warm mouth on hers before she was even fully seated.

As she giggled and wrapped her legs around him, her socked feet pressing against the backs of his knees, she briefly considered the fact that maybe she and Sam shouldn't be allowed in the kitchen alone together.

His tongue parted her lips, gently, just probing a little as his hand came up to cup her face, his thumb brushing her cheek.

Or, you know, maybe they should.

She slipped her hands beneath the hem of his shirt and let her fingers roam up his stomach and over his chest, counting up his ribs. "S…Sam?"

"Hmmm?" he muttered distractedly, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses across her jaw and down the side of her neck.

Andy tipped her head back, exposing a fresh stretch of skin to his wandering lips. "Lindsey's upstairs," she told him, sounding breathless even to her own ears.

"I know," he said, his lips at her pulse, "I'm just..."

"Asleep."

He didn't stop, didn't catch on to what she was getting at, so she continued.

"Like, really…" His hands were under her shirt, palms warm against her rib cage and thumbs caressing the bottom of her breasts, sliding under the underwire of her bra. She closed her eyes, stifling a moan, and tried to focus, "Really asleep. Cold medicine, out-like-a-light asleep."

Sam stilled and pulled back, waiting for her to meet his gaze. When she did she sucked in a breath at the look in his eyes, dark and swirling and… hungry. "I thought you were making her soup?"

Andy blushed all the way to her hairline. "It's possible I was trying to impress you with how domestic I can be." That, and she needed something to do with her hands and figured that she could probably handle soup.

"Well," Sam said slowly, watching her. "Consider me impressed." He blinked and then leaned in to kiss her again, tentatively, hesitantly. After a moment she tried to jump off the counter but he held her there, hands firmly planted on her hips. "Andy…"

"What?" She asked, pushing on his shoulders until he looked at her. "You wanna wait for her to have another sleepover?"

"Don't think I haven't considered asking Oliver," he said, letting out a strangled laugh.

"Are you afraid she's gonna hear or something? Be scarred for life?"

"Yes, actually," he admitted, smiling ruefully. "That's exactly what I'm afraid of."

Andy brought her hands to his face, cupping his jaw. "She's not going to hear. Your rooms are on different floors and you only share the one wall."

Sam smirked at her. "You sound like you've given this some thought."

Andy shrugged innocently and then smiled. "Maybe," she said, absently scratching the back of his neck with her short fingernails.

Sam sighed and dropped his head down on to her shoulder, debating with himself. "I'm just… I'm sorry this is even an issue."

"Sam," Andy said, lifting his head off her shoulder and making him look at her, "I swear to god, if you don't stop apologizing for having custody of Lindsey and being a good, responsible person, I'm literally going to scream." She grinned, sticking her tongue between her teeth. "And not in a good way."

Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other and she could practically see his mind working, conflicting desires flickering through his eyes and across his face.

Finally, he chuckled and tugged on her hair, recalling her sarcastic comment from earlier. "You are, you know?"

"I am what?" she asked, tipping her head to the side.

He looked at her, taking in her wide, trusting brown eyes. "Special," he said after a moment, so softly she could barely hear him.

Andy laughed gently and then hooked a finger through his belt loop to pull him closer. "Like short bus special?" she asked, making him crack a small grin.

Sam tilted her head back and then leaned forward so that his lips hovered just above hers. "No. Like special, special," he said, his breath warm against her.

She beamed, happy and pleased, and then closed the distance between their mouths, kissing him slowly, just barely brushing her lips against his. When she felt Sam's hands move and tighten around her waist and his tongue dart out insistently, she broke away and teased again, "Like partner special or like girlfriend special?"

"McNally…" he groaned.

"I'm kidding. Look," she said, her hands on his waist and her fingers worrying the seam of his shirt, "Is it ideal? No. But it's you and me and its an opportunity and I don't know about you, but I'm getting a little…" she hesitated, biting her bottom lip, "Tired of waiting for everything to be perfect."

"Tired, huh?" Sam repeated, sounding amused.

"Very, very tired," she said pointedly. "Unless…" her brow furrowed when she considered another option, "I mean, unless you don't want to?"

He swallowed hard and his eyes darkened when he looked back up at her. "Andy, no, that's not… of course I want to…" he trailed off, flicking the hair at her shoulder. He took a deep breath and then met her timid gaze. "You sure she's asleep?"

Andy broke out into a wide grin and she twisted herself around his solid body, ankles interlocking behind his back. "Positive," she replied, nudging his nose before pressing her lips to his. "She's snoring like a freight train."

It took her a moment to pull a response out of him and she may have had to roll her hips against his in a way that she wasn't completely proud of. The groan that it earned her, however, made pure satisfaction swell in her chest.

So she did it again.

When he finally did respond, he was all in; one hand getting rid of the clamp that held her hair up and then fisting in the loose strands and the other hooking under both of her knees to lift her against his chest.

It was different than when he'd carried her before, more purposeful, maybe more gentlemanly, and not that she minded the other way but Andy felt something tug in her chest at the gesture.

He laid her out along his bed, her head at the pillows, and before Andy could reach for him and pull him down on top of her, he slid down to her feet.

"These are ridiculous," he muttered, taking her foot into his hand and pulling the fuzzy sock off. Andy was about to respond with a sarcastic comment but then he pressed his lips to the arch of her foot and she just stared at him, mouth agape. He replaced his lips with his thumb, massaging gently, and then moved on to the other foot, giving it the same treatment.

Andy watched him, wide eyed, as he moved up to the waistband of her sweats. Raising an eyebrow, he dipped his fingers beneath the soft material. "These look familiar." When she gulped he grinned up at her and winked. "Weren't so mad at me that you couldn't riffle through my stuff, huh?"

"I uh…" she paused, squeezing her eyes shut when his hand slipped lower, "I didn't think you'd mind."

"I don't," he replied, tugging at the pants until she lifted her hips and let him slide them off of her, his calloused fingers running down the smooth length of her legs.

She opened her eyes again to find him gazing down at her and was suddenly very aware of the harsh, bright afternoon light that was streaming in through the windows.

One glance up at his face and those dark eyes assured her that he wasn't concerned about it at all.

_Still. _

"Sam," she said, motioning uselessly with her hands.

"Andy," he replied lightly, teasing his hand up the inside of her leg, stopping briefly to rub at the raised, jagged scar on her knee and look up at her, eyebrow raised.

"Torn ACL," she answered his unspoken question. "Eleventh grade, district championship basketball game. "

He hummed and lowered himself down to the bed so he could his mouth on her. "Did you win?"

Andy grinned and let her head fall back as his teeth skimmed along her skin, nipping lightly at the flesh of her thighs. "Yes," she said, tangling her fingers through his hair.

She felt him smile against her. "Good."

Andy let him continue for a couple of minutes, warm hands and soft lips exploring. His pace was slow and frustratingly unhurried, taking his time to build up the ache within her. As good as he was making her feel, she found herself reaching down and pulling at his shoulders until he was stretched out on top of her, letting his warm weight press her into the mattress. He supported himself on his elbow and bent his head down to kiss her, one of those kisses that sent heat straight to her belly and left her trembling, limbs like jelly, and a little lightheaded.

She bunched the hem of his shirt in her fingers and yanked it up, whining a little when it got stuck at his shoulders. With a groan he broke away from her lips, panting slightly, and then rose up to his knees, letting her pull the shirt over his head and fling it to the side.

Andy's hands eagerly skimmed over the expanse of his chest, feeling the way it expanded when he drew a breath in and then sharply contracted when he let it out, the air leaving in a rush. His muscles jumped at twitched under her touch as her fingers followed the trail of hair down to his waistband.

Sam pulled her to her knees as well, his hands running up and down her narrow back and then stripping her shirt over her head, lips fusing with hers again as soon as he had the garment off of her. Andy made quick work of his belt and the buttons of his jeans and then she roughly shoved them down, letting them pool around his knees before he quickly kicked them off.

His hands moved down to palm her bottom, pulling her legs up and around him in a full-bodied hug. Andy's fingers dug into his shoulders and he held her there, kissing her long and slow, his knuckles grazing over the groves of her backbone, until she whimpered and arched against him.

They fell back down to the bed together, warmed skin on warmed skin, fingers trailing over one another, memorizing curves and contours, eliciting sighs and moans and occasionally pleas and pants.

At one point Andy flipped them over and straddled his waist, holding his arms at his side. She rolled her hips against him and when he let out a strangled groan she grinned wickedly down at him. "Sam," she taunted breathlessly, "You have to be quiet."

Sam's eyes swirled with challenge and she soon found herself flat on her back again, gasping for air as his fingers tickled feather-light patterns against her rib cage. "What was that McNally?" he chided, lacing his fingers with hers above her head.

"Sam," she whined, hoarse and desperate, knees digging into his ribs. "Please... - "

Afterwards, as they laid tangled together and as the sweat cooled on their overheated bodies, Andy smiled and pressed a kiss against his chest. Under her fingers she could feel his rapid heartbeat begin to calm. "Do you think she heard us?" she murmured softly, propping up her chin to look at him.

Sam grinned and pulled her up to kiss her again. "Doesn't really matter," he said, stroking her hair back from her face.

Andy looked down at him disbelievingly. "Liar. You're dying to go and check to make sure she's still sleeping, aren't you?"

He choked out a laugh but then answered honestly, "Yes."

Sighing with mock exasperation, Andy rolled off of him and then waved her hand towards the door. "Go."

"Andy," Sam said, curling his arm around her waist, not getting up yet, "I don't want you to think… well, I wasn't exactly worried about it _during_."

"Yeah," she grinned broadly and waggled her eyebrows, "I could tell."

Sam narrowed his eyes and with a playful swat to her backside, got out of bed and pulled some clothes on before ducking out of the room. When he returned a few moments later Andy looked at him expectantly. "Well?"

He was already jerking his shirt over his head and climbing back into bed when he answered, "It sounds like a chainsaw up there."

They did it again after Lindsey went to sleep for the night, Sam's paranoia about her being able to hear them apparently gone.

Andy had wished the girl goodnight and then turned her attention back to the television, pretending to be absorbed in the news report about a local salmonella outbreak. She felt Sam's eyes on her but she ignored him, wanting to see what he was going to do. When he sighed and nudged her foot she twisted her mouth against a grin. "You should really check your peanut butter," she told him seriously. "Salmonella's a …" she broke off when Sam scooped her up off the couch and was still laughing a minute later when he dropped her on his bed and quickly divested both them of their clothing.

"I'm just saying," she said, giggling as he wrapped his arm around her waist and dragged her underneath him, "You have Smucker's in there and that's what…"

"McNally?"

"Yes?"

He grinned down at her, wiggling his hips into place, "Be quiet."

So she was.

Or, at least, she tried to be.

A few days later Sam was on patrol with Epstein when his phone rang. Fishing it out his pocket, he pressed the button to answer. "This is Swarek."

"Oh, very official," was Andy's teasing response. "If you're at the barn, cough once. If you're riding with Epstein, cough twice."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm with Epstein today."

"You are no fun," she said, her pout implied.

"Yeah, I know," he said, flicking his eyes over to his rookie. Epstein was pretending not to pay attention. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Andy sighed. "I just heard a missing elderly report over the radio, wanted to make sure you were okay."

Sam rolled his lips between his teeth and let out an unamused huff. "Nice."

Andy laughed. "I'm just kidding. Boyd and I have been sitting on house all day and he finally sent me to get some coffee. He's probably gonna gripe because it's from a gas station but, well… there aren't exactly many options around here. Anyway," she paused to take a breath, "I've been thinking."

"'Bout what?"

"Well," she said, drawing the word out, "If I hurried home from work and you hurried home from work we'd probably have a good… what? Fifteen minutes before Lindsey got home from school?"

Sam fought a grin. "Oh at least," he said, glancing down at his watch. "Maybe twenty."

"I think there's probably a lot we could do in twenty minutes."

He glanced over at Epstein, who at that point had given up the pretense of pretending not to be listening. "I feel certain we could think of some…"

Sam was cut off when Andy swore into the phone, "Shit_."_

Her low, quiet voice sent chills up his spine. "What is it?" Sam asked, alarmed.

"_Shit…"_ she repeated, whispering harshly, "Sam..."

"McNally?"

All he heard was three quick pops, sharp and deafening, and then the clatter of her phone as it hit the floor.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: Thank you all for the wonderful feedback on Chapter 15! I tried to get this chapter out sooner but it felt too rushed and I wanted to give it the effort it deserved. I hope that all of you who celebrate Thanksgiving had a wonderful holiday! Get ready for another healthy helping of angst and fluff... Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue. **

* * *

><p>"<em>So Oliver kept watching 'em parade into booking, eyes kind of bulging out and asking if he was getting punked, but," Sam shook his head, laughing, "Nope, they were honest-to-God Cher impersonators, not an ID to be found in the group of 'em. Took him three days to get everyone sorted out."<em>

_Andy giggled against him and when he looked down all he could see was the top of her dark head and the moonlight reflecting off of her bare, shaking shoulders. "I'd have paid good money to see that," she said, her fingers absently stroking through the hair that sprinkled his chest. _

_She sighed and then propped her chin up so she could look at him. A look passed over her face, like she had a funny thought, and then she grinned and levered herself up to kiss him, laughing against his lips._

"_What?" Sam asked, pushing her hair out of her face but leaving his fingers tangled in the dark strands, settling his hand at the base of her neck. _

_"Just picturing Oliver in a Cher wig," Andy answered, "Singing _Turn Back Time _at the coppers' karaoke night." _

_Sam chuckled along with her and she found herself reaching up to smooth out the wrinkles around his eyes. "I bet for a price you could make that happen." _

"_What do you think it would take?" she asked like she was seriously considering the idea, her forehead scrunched. "Like a dozen doughnuts maybe?" _

"_Throw in some coffee and you'd probably be in business." _

"_Pimpin' out your best friend," Andy scoffed, clicking her tongue. "You should be ashamed of yourself." _

_Sam grinned quickly and then his hands clutched at her side, pulling her fully on top of him. "Oh yeah," he agreed seriously. "I should probably be punished." _

_Andy just laughed, throwing her head back, and then pushed herself away from him. "Later," she promised, rolling to the other side of the bed and pulling the sheet along with her._

"_Hey," Sam said, his easy laughter giving way to a confused frown. "Where are you going?" _

"_I'm just gonna go home to sleep," she told him, leaning over the edge of the mattress to grab her discarded shirt. "I don't want to be here when Lindsey wakes up." _

_Slinging one arm behind his head, Sam spread his free hand out over her warm back, feeling her muscles shift as she sat back up. "You're working early shift tomorrow, right?" _

"_Yeah, why?" Andy answered distractedly, concentrating on flipping her shirt to the right side before pulling it over her head. She felt around under the sheets and then shimmied her underwear up her legs, letting the waistband snap against her skin. _

_Sam was quiet, thumbing the dip at the base of her spine. "I'll set an alarm," he said eventually. "You can go home in the morning before she gets up." _

_Andy paused, still as could be, and then slowly turned to him, a lazy, knowing smile spreading across her face. "You asking me to stay?" _

_Sam's lips twitched with a grin but he rolled his eyes, "I'm saying you don't have to rush off." _

"_Uh huh," Andy said, grinning impishly before crawling over to him. He watched her with a smirk as she threw a leg over his hips and then braced her arms on either side of his head, settling down against his lap. _

_He bent his knees, cradling her, and his hands travelled from her shoulders down to the slight curve of her waist. She was staring down at him, grinning in a way that unnerved him, like she was about to make him do something that she knew he would hate but would probably do anyway just because she asked. "McNally…" he groaned, chuckling nervously. _

_She folded her elbows and lowered herself down, her lips right above his. "Sam," she whispered, tongue peeking out to wet her bottom lip, "If you want me to stay, you just have to ask." _

_Sam's eyes were fixed on her lips and his throat worked as he swallowed hard, making a sharp, ragged noise. After a moment, his dark gaze flicked back up to meet hers and she raised a delicate eyebrow, waiting. Cupping a hand to her cheek, long fingers brushing smooth, bronzed skin, he murmured, "Stay." _

_Andy's face lit up as she closed the distance between them. "Okay." _

"McNally?"

The first time Sam said her name Dov looked over him, surprised he had actually given away whom he was talking to, not that Dov hadn't guessed. Then, even from where he was sitting, he heard a loud popping noise and Sam flinched, pulling the phone away from his ear for half a second, before calling, "Andy?" After a moment Sam repeated himself, and edge of panic in his voice that Dov had only heard a handful of times before, "Andy?"

Dov didn't have to know what was happening on the other end of the line, though from the noise he heard he could draw a couple of conclusions, but the look on Sam's color-drained face was enough to fill his stomach with cold dread.

"Sir," he said hesitantly, "Sir, what's happening?"

Sam ignored him, which wasn't exactly surprising, and Dov watched as Sam almost visibly slipped into copper mode; the tense set of his jaw and the no nonsense, training officer voice, the one Sam used when he needed to gain control over a situation. It was practiced and controlled and authoritative and could calm people down while simultaneously making them trust him enough to do exactly what he told them to do without argument.

"McNally!" Sam demanded firmly, like maybe by using that voice Andy would have no other option but to respond simply because he was telling her to.

Apparently there was no response because Sam jerked the squad car into a loading zone and started muttering to himself, his fist against his forehead and his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Sir," Dov tried again, trying to keep his voice steady. "What's going on with Andy?"

Sam looked over at him with a blank stare, like he had forgotten that his rookie was even in the car. He blinked and then recognition filled his eyes. "Listen to that," he said, tossing the phone over to Dov, "Tell me what you hear."

The line hadn't gone dead and Dov could hear noises in the background, something that sounded like a person sucking in deep, strangled breaths and someone else yelling words that he couldn't make out.

"I can't… I think I hear someone breathing and..," Dov shook his head, "I don't know, I can't tell what the guy in the background is saying."

"Yeah," Sam said, messing with his radio. "Keep listening, tell me if you hear McNally."

"Sir… was she…?"

Sam's dark eyes flicked over to meet his. "I don't know," he replied tightly. "I _don't_ know."

Dov just nodded, feeling a warm, sick lump rise in the back of his throat, and then turned his attention back to the phone while Sam switched through the frequencies on his radio. He could still hear someone talking but then there was a sharp crack, like someone had kicked the phone across the floor, and the voices became more distant.

"Damn it," Sam muttered, jerking the transmitter off of his belt, "_Damn it." _

"What's…?"

"Boyd's not answering his radio," he said.

"Just call into dispatch," Dov suggested. "Get 'em to tell you where she is."

Sam looked up, blinked, and then did exactly that.

Dov felt like the smartest freaking copper on the entire planet.

Or he would have, at least, had Sam not looked like he was actively fighting to keep himself from going absolutely out of his mind.

Sam quickly found out Boyd and Andy's location and was informed that an ambulance had already been called to the scene. It took them nearly twenty minutes to get there, which was impressive considering that they were clear across town, but it felt like hours. They rode in silence save for every sixty seconds when Sam asked Dov to get an update. They learned small details along the way, bits and pieces of information that Sam hoarded like lifelines and processed as the muscle his jaw twitched and jumped.

Sam drove with a sort of purpose and focus that was intense even for him; eyes fixed on the road, mind navigating traffic patterns like a labyrinth three steps ahead of where they were. His whole body was taut with tension, every movement restrained, as if he might completely unravel if he gave up even the slightest modicum of control.

The scene was crawling with police officers when they arrived and there was already an ambulance parked outside of the gas station.

Boyd met them at the car before they were even fully out of it. If he was surprised to see them there, he covered it well. "Swarek… Sam…" he said, standing in front of the other man to physically block him from moving forward. "You can't go in there man, it's a crime scene."

"Where's McNally?" Sam asked, dodging Boyd and anxiously surveying the area in front of the rundown gas station, looking for a dark brown ponytail.

Boyd jutted his chin out to the ambulance. "She's fine, she's getting checked out by paramedics now…"

Before Boyd finished his sentence, Sam was on the move with Dov at his heels. "What were you thinking, letting her go in there in the first place?" he called angrily over his shoulder.

"I was thinking I wanted some coffee," Boyd said, hurrying to catch up. "Chill out buddy, it's not like I purposely sent her in there…"

Sam shot Boyd a loaded look.

"Whatever man," Boyd said, picking up on the nonverbal insinuation. "You know I didn't. Look, Sam, stop… she's talking to my staff sergeant now, give her a couple of minutes."

Sam took another couple of steps but then actually did what Boyd asked and stopped, having finally caught sight of Andy. The wave of relief that flooded through him the instant he laid eyes on her very much alive form was so tangible that he thought his knees were actually going to give out. He put his hands on his hips, ducked his head and sucked in a couple of deep breaths. When he looked back up he asked, "What do you know?"

Boyd studied him for a second and then hesitantly pointed to a young guy in the back of a cruiser, seeming legitimately concerned that Sam might go over and haul the kid out and maybe take a couple of swings at him. "Twitchy sixteen year old kid, high on something, probably coke, held up the gas station with his older brother's .22. McNally walked in, spooked him, took three in the vest. Kid tried to run out the back but we got him got about two blocks down. Still had the gun on him."

Sam nodded slowly, his chest still visibly expanding with every breath.

"That's gotta suck," Dov chimed in uselessly, just needing to say something. "Aggravated robbery and attempted murder of a police officer… what a day."

Both Sam and Boyd glared back at him, so he clamped his mouth shut, chagrined.

Boyd narrowed his eyes at Sam. "How did you even know this was going down?"

"I uh…" Sam squeezed his eyes closed, fighting off a pounding headache. "I was on the phone with her when it… when she…" he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. He looked over to where Andy was seated inside the back of the ambulance, lifting up her shirt so the paramedic could apply some sort of salve to her ribs. "I was on the phone with her."

"On the phone with her?" Boyd repeated slowly, a glint in his eye. "She didn't mention that. What?" he asked sarcastically, flicking a glance between Andy and Sam, "Were you guys setting up a babysitting gig or something?"

Behind him, Epstein let out surprised snort at the ballsy dig and then quickly tried to cover it with a cough. Sam's hands clenched at his side but through some form of self-control he didn't realize he possessed, he managed not to deck Boyd right then and there. He took another deep breath and then turned back to Boyd. "She okay?"

"Yeah, she's got a couple of bruised ribs. Counter's about twenty feet from the door and the gun's a piece of shit. It could've been…" he broke off at Sam's hard stare. "Well, you know."

Sam nodded. "Anyone else?'

Boyd shook his head. "Some lady spilt coffee all over herself, but everyone else is fine."

Over at the ambulance, the staff sergeant patted Andy on the shoulder and then turned to walk away. She followed him, watching him go, and her gaze landed on Sam. Sensing her looking at him, Sam turned around. A flicker of surprise crossed over her face when they made eye contact, like maybe she genuinely thought he was just going to wait around and find out what happened over stir fry that night, but then her features relaxed and her shoulders slumped and even though she looked like she was miserable and in pain, she seemed relieved that he was there.

Sam made his way over to her and gestured for the paramedic to give them a second when he reached her.

"Sam," she said immediately, "I'm so sorry, I dropped the phone and then I couldn't get to it…"

Because he had to do something with his hands to keep himself from doing what he really wanted to do – he _really_ wanted to get her somewhere alone and see for himself that she was okay – he reached one out and placed it on her shoulder. The contact, as innocent as it may have appeared and as completely unsatisfying as it was, was enough to keep him going, keep him _professional. _

"Andy, it's fine," he assured her. "It's fine. You okay?"

She nodded and her face started to crumple a little bit, like she was going to cry, but then she blinked and took a deep breath and straightened her spine. "Yeah, I'm good."

Sam nodded towards her stomach. "Let me see."

She tried to argue with him, stretching the hem of her shirt lower. "Sam, it's really nothing, it's fine…"

"Let me see," he repeated firmly.

She sighed heavily, glancing around, and then scooted closer to him, tugging on his arm. Sam realized what she was after and angled his body to block her from the others' view.

Closing her eyes because she didn't want to see his reaction, she took a deep breath and then rolled her shirt up to the edge of her sports bra.

Sam's grip tightened on her shoulder as he took in the ugly purple and navy bruise that was beginning to bloom across her ribcage. He shoved his free hand in his pocket to keep from reaching out and smoothing his fingers over it. "Shit, Andy…"

Her eyes snapped open and she quickly lowered her shirt. "Sam, it's just… it's not as bad as it looks."

Sam chewed on his bottom lip. "You going to the hospital?"

"No, they said I'm fine."

"They said you're fine or you told them you were fine?"

Andy narrowed her eyes. "I'm fine," she said, not really answering the question.

Sam stared at her, thinking. "Okay," he said slowly. "I'm going to go and get the truck and then I'm going to take you home."

She was shaking her head before he finished. "I've got to go back to the station," she told him. "There's a ton of paperwork I've got to fill out and I've got to…"

"Nope," he responded, shaking his head with equal fervor. "You can do it later."

"Sam," she raised her eyebrows and her mouth was set in a tight, challenging line. "I have to do my job. I don't want to go home yet." He was still looking at her like he didn't believe her, rubbing at his jaw. "I'm fine," she insisted again, covering the hand on her shoulder with her own and giving it a little squeeze.

He was silent, a dozen different reactions playing across his face, but then he finally agreed, "Okay."

Andy let out a breath. "Okay."

"But," Sam said, "Call me when you finish up and I'll come get you."

"I will," she promised, knowing it wasn't a battle she was going to win.

Sam stared down at the ground for a couple of seconds and then looked back up at her. "I'm glad you're…" he paused, clearing his throat. He could feel Boyd watching them and for the one-hundredth time wished they were somewhere, anywhere else, away from the prying eyes of their coworkers. "I'm glad you're okay."

It sounded terribly inadequate, but it made her smile. "Thanks for um… driving all the way out here."

Sam let out a choked laugh, she was absolutely ridiculous sometimes, and then shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, you know, I didn't really have anything better to do."

Andy lips curled into a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yeah," she nodded. "I'm sure you were probably just bored."

His radio began to chatter, Oliver asking where the hell he was, and he quickly switched it off. "I've uh," he coughed and glanced around, noticing that Epstein was talking into his radio and sending pointed looks in his direction. "I've got to go."

"Yeah, I know," she said, her smile fading.

Sam looked at her - in spite of all of her bravado she looked so small and fragile in the back of the ambulance and all he wanted to do in that moment was gather her in his arms. Instead, he squeezed her shoulder again and took a step back. "Call me," he instructed. "I mean it."

Andy nodded. "I will."

Sam ducked his head to meet her gaze and with a final look, he turned to leave. He nodded to Dov, who was waving at Andy, and the two of them made their way back to the squad car.

"Hey, Sam…" Boyd called after his retreating form. Sam was already at the cruiser, fingers closing around the door handle. "I, uh, I'll leave the phone call out of the report."

Sam set his jaw. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he said quickly. Because he couldn't just end there, he added, "If she wasn't talking to you there would have been some other shiny object to distract her."

Sam yanked the car door open and fought the urge to make a comment about how it might be a good time to cut Andy some slack, deciding not to push his luck. "Thanks."

Boyd just shrugged and then responded with a healthy dose of self-awareness. "I'm not always a complete asshole."

Sam nodded sharply. "Right," he said, lowering himself into the driver's side. Sticking the keys in the ignition, he began, "Epstein…"

"I know Sir," Dov interrupted, pulling his seat belt across his body. "Not a word. You don't have to worry."

"No, that's not…" Sam shook his head and started the ignition. Before backing out of the small parking lot he paused and turned to his rookie. "Good work today. You were smart, keep your head on straight."

Dov felt a swell of pride in his chest at the unexpected praise but fought, somewhat successfully, to keep his expression neutral. "Thank you, sir. I uh… just did what I was taught."

Sam's lips twitched with the faintest of smiles and he just nodded as he threw the car in reverse.

Later, long after her shift normally ended, Sam tapped his fingers against the steering wheel of his truck as he waited for Andy in the parking lot of the twenty-seventh division. He had grown increasingly agitated at home as the hours ticked by, waiting for her to call, and was just about to take matters into his own hands when the phone finally rang.

She emerged from the sally port and scanned the lot for his truck. Spotting him, she hiked her bag higher on her shoulder and began making her way across the pavement, moving slowly and instinctively favoring her right side.

Sam jumped out of the truck, taking her bag from her when he reached her despite her protests.

"Sam, I can get it," she tried to tell him.

"I know you can," he replied, swinging it over his shoulder and taking her hand. "I got it though."

He tossed the bag into the bed of the truck and by the time he turned back to her she had already opened the passenger's door and was climbing in.

"McNally," he said, grabbing hold of her elbow to help her up. "Would you just let me help you?"

"I got it," she insisted, which would have been more believable had she not winced as she sat back into the seat.

Sam waited for her to get settled before asking, "You okay?"

"Yeah," she nodded once. "Just sore." Sam watched her for a moment, his eyes travelling the full length of her body, until she shot him an irritated look. "I'm fine, Sam. Let's go home."

He drove quietly and for once Andy didn't ramble to fill the silence. He wanted to hear her talk, wanted her to tell him everything that happened leading up to the shooting and everything that happened afterwards, but she just leaned against the door, her breath fogging up the cold window.

Sam found himself glancing over at her ever so often, just checking on her. He tried to tell himself that she was being so quiet simply because she was exhausted, not because she was shutting him out.

"You've got to stop looking at me like that, okay?" she snapped, not even bothering to look over at him. "You're going to freak Lindsey out."

"How am I looking at you?" he asked naively, fingers opening and closing around the gearshift.

"Like I'm about two inches away from death," she told him. "Cut it out."

Sam snorted derisively, starting to get irritated with how flippantly she was brushing off the events of the day. "You were about two inches away from death, if those bullets had been any higher…"

"But they weren't, okay? Look, can you just not…" Andy huffed. "I don't want to scare Lindsey so can you just chill out for now and I promise I'll let you do your whole overprotective bit later?"

His eyebrows jumped and his jaw clenched. "Overprotective?" he repeated slowly, quiet and with an edge. He licked his lips and then cleared his throat, "Is that what you think I'm being?"

She met his gaze and held it for a couple of seconds before her eyes reddened and she blinked rapidly, like she was on the verge of tears, and looked away. "I know why you're acting like this, okay?" she said. "Because I was on the phone with you when it happened."

"McNally, that's not even…"

She continued, ignoring him. "If it had been anyone else you probably wouldn't think twice about it but because it was you and… " she paused, hesitating, but then forged ahead, "You know what? Let's be honest… because it was basically booty call, you're feeling about ten different kinds of responsible right now, which you are not. So please just stop, just… stop_. I am fine_."

He was silent the rest of the way home, chewing on the inside of his lip to keep himself from saying something that he might regret. It wasn't until he pulled onto their street and parked the truck that he finally looked over at her. "You think I'm acting this way because I feel responsible?"

Andy rolled her eyes and started to unbuckle her seatbelt. "Sam, just…"

"You don't think there's any other reason that I might be concerned about you?" He asked, turning and reaching his hand out to stop her.

She sighed and then brushed him off. "Let's just go inside."

Sam gulped, watching in disbelief as she started to exit the truck. "McNally, what in the…?" She slammed the door, cutting off his question.

He slumped back in his seat, stewing with frustration, and then hit the steering wheel a couple of times before climbing out to follow her inside.

Lindsey met them in the foyer, skidding to a stop and catching herself from throwing her arms around Andy. "Are you okay?"

Andy dropped her bag to the floor with a heavy thud. "Yeah," she said, plastering on a fake smile. "I'm fine." She worked the buttons on her coat and shrugged it off, holding it out. Sam took it from her without even thinking. When she bent over to pull her boots off he grabbed her hand to steady her, not even thinking about that either.

Lindsey's eyes were wide and frightened. "Uncle Sam said you got shot."

Andy shot Sam a look that he didn't quite understand, like maybe she was mad at him for telling his niece what had happened, and then turned back to Lindsey. "I got hit in the vest," she said, throwing her arm around the girl's shoulders and leading her into the living room, leaving Sam standing alone in the middle of the foyer. "I'm just bruised, that's all…"

He took a second to hang up their coats and kick Andy's bag to the side before following. "Lindsey," he said, coming up behind them, "It's time for you to go to bed."

Lindsey whipped around to look at him. "You said that I could stay up," she alleged, her voice squeaking.

"I said that you could stay up until Andy got home," Sam reminded her. He nodded over at Andy and then jerked his thumb behind his shoulder towards the stairs, "She's here and you've seen her, so now its time for you to go to bed."

Lindsey looked over at Andy for support but thankfully Andy just shrugged and smiled. "I'm here. I'm fine," she said, dipping her head so she could meet the girl at eye level. "Go to bed."

"You're going to stay here tonight, right?" Lindsey asked, a thread of nervousness in her voice.

Andy immediately glanced over at Sam and narrowed her eyes suspiciously, as if he might have been the one to put Lindsey up to asking her to stay.

Sam just rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly, surprised and a little offended that she had automatically jumped to that conclusion. And, to be honest, more than a little aggravated that she was acting like her staying over wasn't a forgone conclusion.

"Lindsey," Andy said, turning back to the girl by the shoulders. "They caught the guy that did it. No one's gonna hurt me."

"I know that," Lindsey replied, "But it's just…I mean, you shouldn't be alone, right?" She looked back and forth between her uncle and Andy, sensing the discord between the two. "You can sleep in my bed if you want," she offered. "I'll take the couch."

"Oh no, that's okay," Andy said. "You don't have to do that. I'll be fine."

Lindsey eyed her warily. "Okay," she agreed. "But you'll stay here, right?"

Andy glanced back at Sam, her eyes searching for direction one way or the other, as if he might actually tell her she couldn't stay. He nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Yeah sweetie," Andy answered, "I'll stay here."

"Okay," Lindsey nodded. She stepped forward and carefully circled her thin arms around Andy, careful not to hurt her. "Goodnight."

Andy squeezed the girl tightly, ignoring the sharp pain in her side. "Goodnight."

Lindsey took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling, and then stepped back. She quickly hugged Sam and then made her way up to her room.

Andy and Sam regarded each other a couple of tense, quiet moments. "Did you eat?" Sam asked finally, his default question.

"Yeah, at the station," Andy answered, turning her back to him to cross the room.

"Okay," he said, rooted in his place as he watched her carefully lower herself down to the sofa, sitting first, supported by the arm on her good side, and then swinging her legs up and lying back. "I'm gonna get you some ice."

"I don't need ice," Andy told him, stretching out and trying to make herself comfortable. She shook her hair out over the armrest and hugged a pillow to her body, unconsciously splinting her ribs. "I'm fine."

Ignoring her, Sam went into the kitchen anyway and pulled out a bag of frozen peas from the freezer. He returned and lifted her ankles with one hand so he could sit down at the end of the sofa, letting her feet come to rest in his lap. "Put that on your stomach," he said, tossing her the bag of peas. She started to open her mouth but he held up a hand, stopping her. "And don't argue with me about it."

She grumbled under her breath but did what he asked. "There," she said, molding the bag to her side. "Are you happy?"

He really had no idea what he had done to piss her off. "Oh yeah," he replied sarcastically, "Because I'm the one with the bruised ribs."

Andy sighed and slung her arm over her eyes. "You didn't have to tell Lindsey what happened."

"What?" he asked, his forehead wrinkling. "Why wouldn't I tell her?"

"Because it's just gonna scare her and make her worry," Andy said. "There was really no reason to put her through that."

Sam ran a hand over his face and then stretched an arm out along the back of the couch. "So you what, exactly? Wanted me to lie to her?"

Andy lifted her arm slightly to peek out at him. "Not lie," she argued. "Just not even bring it up."

Sam let out a sharp laugh. "Have you met Lindsey?" he asked. "Do you really think that would have worked?"

Andy just covered her eyes again and groaned.

She had shoved her feet between his thighs so he curled his free arm around the bottoms of her legs and rubbed his hand up and down her denim-covered shin. "Look, Andy," he said gently, "You were hurt, there's no reason to…"

She groaned again. "Sam, I am fine."

Sam's hand stilled on her leg. "How many times are you going to say that today?"

"What?" she mumbled into her arm.

"That you're fine," he repeated. "How many times are you going to say that?"

Her chest expanded with a deep breath and she lowered her arm. "Well I _am_ fine, so… " she insisted stubbornly.

"Well, it's too bad for you that I've taken a couple in the vest before," Sam told her. "And I know that popping a couple of Advil doesn't make everything okay."

"Sam…" she pressed her fingers to her eyes. "Can we just not make a big deal about this?"

Sam's eyes widened incredulously. "Not make a big deal – Andy, you were shot today, or do you not remember that?"

"I remember," she muttered. "But really…"

"Look," Sam interrupted her, "Whatever it is that you're trying to accomplish, you need to knock it off."

She opened her eyes and blinked at him. "What?"

"Whatever you're trying to accomplish by pretending like you're okay," he clarified. "I understand why you'd want to do that with Lindsey, but not with me." He thought back through the car ride home, the way she'd brought up the phone call. "Are you embarrassed? Is that – because you were on the phone with me?"

"What? No. I'm not embarrassed…"

"Because you shouldn't be," he told her. "You shouldn't be, you didn't do anything wrong. There was no way for you to know what you were walking into."

"I know that."

"Then what is it. Andy? Seriously, I don't understand why..."

Andy scratched at the upholstery of the couch with her finger, not meeting his eye. Finally, she spoke. "You've had enough to deal with, okay? You've been through… a lot." She sighed and shook her head, "You shouldn't have to worry about me."

Sam nodded slowly, finally understanding what was going on; why she was being so insistent that she was _fine_.

"So, you think that… what?" he asked, deciding to be blunt, "I can't handle you being hurt because my sister killed herself?" Andy's eyes flew to meet his and he found the answer he was looking for. "That's what it is, isn't it? You think that because of Sarah, you need to protect me from this."

"Sam…" she sighed but didn't try and deny it.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that the fact that _she_ was trying to look out for _him _even though _she _was the one that had gotten shot was so totally McNally; always looking out for other people and always downplaying her own problems. That thought, however, was overshadowed by how completely livid it made him that she felt she couldn't be honest with him.

"Okay, well, first of all, you being hurt… it doesn't mean you're weak. It means you're hurt and there's no sense in trying to act like you're not. You telling me not to worry and acting like everything's okay doesn't make me worry less, it just pisses me off," Sam told her truthfully. "And you saying that you're fine," he shook his head, "That doesn't reassure me and make me think you are actually fine, it makes me think you're full of crap."

"Okay…" Andy tried to get a word in, but he was on a roll.

"I don't need you to be pretend to be strong because you think I can't handle it. Was I terrified today? Absolutely. You…" he broke off, feeling an unexpected lump in his throat choke off his words. Finally, he cleared his throat and continued. "I heard you McNally, I heard you get shot. Of course I was terrified. But I can handle it. I'm a big boy."

"I know you are…"

He cut her off again, "And I'm not concerned about you because I feel responsible, okay? I'm concerned and worried and want you to tell me what's going on because I care about you."

By the time he was finished, Andy was looking at him with wide eyes and an expression that he couldn't read. She looked so tired and so unbelievably young that he couldn't help but feel like a jackass for just exploding on her like that.

"Okay," she said softly. She sat up, pushing herself up gingerly, and then stood to her feet.

"Andy," Sam said. "Wait, come here…"

"I'm going to go take a shower," she told him, looking down at the ground. When her eyes flicked back up to meet his she asked quietly, "Do you, um… do you want to come with me?"

"Andy… " He did. He definitely did, but the last time they had taken a shower together he'd ended up having to swing by the store on the way home from work and pick up a new curtain liner – polyester, less likely to rip when someone grabbed on to it.

A faint blush colored Andy's cheeks at his expression. "No, uh. Not like that. I just…" she sighed and raised her shoulders in a half hearted shrug. "Well, it hurts to lift my arms."

It was a sort of peace offering – her asking for his help. "Yeah," he said, getting up from the couch. "I'll come with you."

He followed her back to his bathroom and helped her remove her clothes – pushing her jeans down her legs because it hurt to bend over and then carefully getting her shirt off without making her hold her arms up. It was a new experience, undressing someone for a purpose other than seeing them naked.

There was something very distressing about seeing her standing there naked and vulnerable, so he quickly shed his own clothes and then turned the shower on, pulling her close to him with a hand wrapped around to her back while he futzed with the water temperature.

"Come on," he said, supporting her as they climbed into the tub.

She gave him a quick little dirty smirk when she noticed the shower curtain but other than that remained still and quiet as he backed her underneath the warm spray of water. He lathered a wash cloth up and ran it from her shoulders down to her fingers and then over her chest and stomach – mindful of the sickening bruise that cover her left side. She grimaced and squeezed her eyes shut when he barely touched her there. He watched her face the entire time and when she opened her eyes again he could tell by the set of her jaw that she was biting off a reassurance.

When he bent down to get her legs he felt her fingers gripping at his shoulders, steadying herself.

She held him around the waist and rested her head against his chest when he did her hair and he tried not to think about how good her warm, wet, soapy body felt against his as he rinsed the shampoo out.

He couldn't tell if it was because she really needed the help, if it really did hurt that badly to lift her arms, or if she was just letting him do it because she knew he wanted to - he suspected it was more the latter - but either way it didn't matter.

When she was all clean he tilted her chin up with his hand, thumb stroking at her bottom lip, just waiting to see what she would do. She let out a noise that Sam took as permission, so he ducked his head to kiss her, slow and lazy, tension leaving his body in waves as his lips moved against hers.

Her hands wandered over his back, pulling him against her so tightly that he was afraid she might hurt herself. He stopped himself from stepping back, from putting some space between them, wanting to give her whatever she needed.

The water started to cool and Andy pulled back first, resting her forehead against his. "You ready to go to bed?"

Sam nodded, reaching behind her to shut the water off. He got them both dried off, spending time to squeeze the water from her hair, and then knotted her towel at her sternum to keep it up. "Do you want something to wear?" he asked, nudging her into the bedroom.

She shook her head slowly and draped her towel over a chair before climbing into his bed. Sam watched her wiggle in between the sheets and when she was settled she looked up at him expectantly. "You coming?"

Sam blinked. He had an idea of how he wanted the night to go – he wanted her to get some sleep, mostly – and a very naked Andy sprawling out in his bed, looking at him like _that, _wasn't really conducive to those plans.

She must have sensed his hesitation. "Come on," she said, holding out her hand. She crooked her fingers insistently. "_Come on_."

He studied her for another minute until she raised an impatient eyebrow. Finally, he dropped his towel and when he pulled on a pair of boxer-briefs she rolled her eyes but didn't say anything.

She pulled him to her as soon as he crawled in the bed, arms and legs wrapped tightly around his body and her mouth over his before he was even under the covers.

"Andy," he murmured against her lips. "It's okay, let's just go to sleep…"

"I don't want to go to sleep," she insisted, kind of frenzied, warm mouth moving across his face. "I just want – "

She was pushing down on his shoulders so he had a pretty good idea of what she wanted. "Okay… okay…" he said, gently rolling them over. He braced himself up on his forearms and took a moment to look down at her. "Are you sure? Because, Andy, we don't…"

"Yes," she practically hissed, her toes coming up to work his boxers over his hips. She winced again but kept going, so he put his hands on her face to stop her.

"Okay," he said, "But just… just slow down, okay? We'll do this if you want but just… don't hurt yourself. You don't have to prove anything." He wasn't sure where the words came from but they seemed to work. Her movements slowed and her hands came up to tangle in his hair. "Okay?"

She nodded once, eyes open and clear as day even in the darkness of the room.

"Okay," he repeated, kissing her softly. He moved slowly down her body, taking him time, pressing his lips in a trail down her neck, nipping lightly at her collarbone, and then down between her breasts.

Her hips started to arch up but he put a hand on her belly to keep her still, keeping his pace slow to give her every opportunity to stop him. He made it down to her ribs, to the ugly bruise, and stared at it for a moment before brushing his thumb over it lightly, just barely touching it. His hand crept higher, up and over her breast, until he felt her heart pumping away under his fingers. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, warm air against her stomach, and her skin prickled with goosebumps.

He kept going, moving down, until he heard her. "Sam?" her voice was shaky and small.

He pet his hand down her leg, drawing it up over his shoulder, "Mmmhmm?" he murmured against her skin.

He heard her take in a deep breath, sucking in air in erratic gulps, and then she admitted, "It was really scary."

He froze for half a second, his whole body stilling as her words rocked through him. He swallowed hard and then pressed a kiss right below her belly button before crawling up to hover over her, careful to keep his weight off of her.

She looked broken; chin quivering and tears streaking down her face and back towards her ears, a far cry from the bossy, stubborn expression she'd worn five minutes earlier.

"I know it was, sweetheart," he said, brushing away the wetness for the corners of her eyes with the pad of his thumb. He kissed her gently, drawing it out for a moment, and then whispered again. "I know it was."

She let out a deep breath, her chest falling as she pushed the air out with a trembling huff. "It hurt so bad."

"I know," he soothed, stroking her cheek.

She sniffled and then twined her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. Sam could feel her wet eyelashes brushing over his skin and his slid his hand between her back and the mattress to help hold her up.

Eventually his shoulders started to ache from supporting his weight and hers, so he carefully rolled them to the side. She curled against him immediately, legs entangling with his and thin arms wrapping around him, sharp elbows digging into his back. Her breathing was ragged and he could feel her tears against his neck, but she didn't make any other sound, just held on to him.

He held her until she fell asleep, pressing kisses against her forehead, trailing his fingers lightly over her back and whispering into her ear. Eventually her breathing evened out but her hold never loosened.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note**: Hey everyone! Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up. Does anyone else ever have trouble getting back onto a schedule after a holiday? I think I'm finally back to normal. Anyway, thank you so much for the reviews on Chapter 16! I really appreciate everyone's feedback... it was better than pumpkin pie :). I promise that the next chapter will be faster than this one!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Rookie Blue.

* * *

><p>"What do you think they're doing up there?"<p>

"Building a pipe bomb," Andy deadpanned, not bothering to look away from the television. "Or, you know," she paused and thoughtfully licked at a spoonful of ice cream, "Talking about boys."

It was a Friday night and Hannah Shaw was staying over. The girls had disappeared upstairs to Lindsey's room as soon as they had gotten home from school and only made an appearance when the pizza arrived.

They scarfed down their slices and then announced that they were going to go back upstairs. Andy sat on the counter and watched with a small, amused smile as Sam fretted around the kitchen, pulling out cookies and leftover Halloween candy and asking if they wanted anything as they tried to hurry away.

"Nope," Lindsey called back, the thud of twin footsteps and giggles echoing down the hallway.

"They're fine Sam," she assured him, feet banging against the bottom cabinets. "They'll tell you if they need anything."

Sam exhaled through his nose and put his hands on his hips, glancing around like he was trying to decide if he believed her. "Yeah," he said finally, nodding. "Yeah, you're right."

"I am right," Andy agreed, reaching out to grab a fistful of his shirt to tug him over to her. She grinned when he shot a worried look over his shoulder. "But you know what I could really go for?" she asked, tracing her tongue along her bottom lip before catching it between her teeth.

Sam coughed, surprised, and then put his hands out to squeeze her lean biceps. "McNally, I don't really think now's the…"

"Ice cream," Andy interrupted him, innocently brushing her hands over his chest, smoothing out wrinkles that weren't there. "I could really go for some ice cream."

"Ice cream?" Sam repeated, backing up slightly.

She nodded, pushing him towards the freezer before reaching above her head to retrieve a bowl. "And not that pistachio stuff you tried to feed me last time either. Real ice cream."

Sam smirked but pulled a carton of double fudge brownie out and held it up. "This good enough?"

Her eyes lit up and she let out a happy sigh. "Perfect. You want some?"

"Death by chocolate? I don't think so."

He scooped her out some ice cream and then let her lead him into the living room and onto the sofa. Andy scrambled for the remote before he could get to it and flipped through the channels until she landed on a crappy made-for-TV Lifetime movie.

"Jennifer Love Hewitt plays a masseuse who's actually a prostitute so she can provide for her family, Sam," she said, scooting back against him until he slung an arm around her shoulder. "It's brilliant. We have to watch it for, like, research purposes."

Sam grumbled under his breath but seemed far too concerned with what was going on upstairs to actually do anything about it.

"I think I'd prefer the pipe bomb," Sam muttered in response to Andy's prediction that Lindsey and Hannah were talking about boys.

"Relax, they're probably just dissecting everything grocery boy said today," Andy told him, her teeth clinking against the metal spoon. "Trying to decide if he _likes _her or if he _like likes _her."

Sam sighed and rubbed his hand over his jaw. "I can't believe you haven't gotten that kid's name yet," he said, looking back towards the stairs as he absentmindedly stroked his fingers through her hair.

Andy craned her neck to glance back at him. "Who says I haven't gotten a name?"

"Have you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe."

He poked his finger into her side, tickling her a little. "Tell me."

"No way," she said, laughing as she shoved his hand away, "You forget that I had a cop dad. As soon as you find out his name you're going to do background checks on his entire family and probably send Diaz up to the school to dig around a little."

"I wouldn't send _Diaz,_" Sam huffed. He looked like he was thinking it over and then quietly mumbled, "I might send Peck though."

"See?" Andy said, pointing at him with her spoon, "I'm not telling you. Plus, Lindsey asked me not to, so…" she shrugged and turned her attention back to the TV.

Sam looked down at the back of her dark head. "You're really not going to tell me?"

Andy shook her head. "I'm really not. I made a promise."

"And?"

She glanced back at him narrowed her eyes accusingly. "You want me to break a promise that I made to your sweet, innocent, trusting niece?"

"Okay, first of all, Lindsey's a Swarek so she's not that sweet," Sam told her, earning a burst of laughter, "And second, yes, I do."

"Well, too bad."

He gazed down at her with a vaguely incredulous expression, like he really just understand why she wasn't falling all over herself to tell him what she knew. "McNally…"

"Look, Sam," she set down her empty ice cream bowl and turned to face him fully. "I don't want Lindsey to think that anytime she tells me something I'm going to run and tell you. If there was something going on that I thought you needed to know about, I would let you know, I swear I would, but so far the most interaction they've had is when she hands back homework during math class. I've think they've only had like, one actual conversation and it consisted of what flavor of Jello in the cafeteria was the best. Its not exactly earth-shattering stuff. She just thinks he's cute, that's all."

Sam chewed on his bottom lip, eyeing her carefully. "You're sure it's nothing more than that?"

Andy nodded. "I'm positive."

"She hid behind the counter at the grocery store and they've only talked one time?"

Andy nodded again. "_Some_ people make good first impressions," she said, smirking a little and flicking her finger over a button on his shirt. "Others…" she pressed her lips together and tilted her head from side to side, "Not so much."

Sam snorted, immediately knowing what she was getting at. "She probably didn't wake him up at the crack of dawn."

"He probably wasn't a jerk to her," Andy shot back.

"She probably wasn't a pain in the ass."

Andy's mouth gaped open, feigning insult, and then she shoved her elbow back into his stomach. It wasn't hard enough to hurt, not really, but he let out a grunt anyway. "I'll show you pain in the ass," she muttered with a scowl.

Sam grinned and before she knew what was happening, he wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled her back up into his lap. He was careful, still mindful of her ribs, but he was starting to use a little bit more of his strength again and wasn't quite so gentle.

Andy was just glad he wasn't treating her like she was made of glass anymore. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't appreciated his concern and his gentleness but after a week of being handled with kid gloves she was happy he was loosening up.

"Sam!" she squeaked, squirming around and halfheartedly struggling to get out of his grasp for no other reason than just not wanting to give him the satisfaction of winning their stupid little fit. She finally gave up and relaxed against his chest with an exasperated huff.

He just chuckled and planted a kiss against her temple, ruffling her hair a little until she leaned her head onto his shoulder.

"We should totally do this," Andy said, gesturing towards the screen as she stretched her legs out along the length of the sofa.

Sam's brow furrowed when he looked down at her. "What?"

"Set up a sting operation out of a massage pallor," she said. "I bet we'd get tons of johns."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, focusing the movie for a second. "You gonna wear one of those little…" he pointed at one of the scantily clad women on the screen and waved his finger around, "Outfits?"

He didn't sound entirely on board with the idea.

"No way," Andy scoffed. "I'd have to be the receptionist or something. I was a terrible prostitute." At his expression she clarified, "We did a john sweep a couple months ago. Ugh," she scrubbed her hand over her face, "It was… embarrassing and horrible and I totally froze up."

Sam chuckled, his chest rumbling against her shoulder, and she looked back at him and narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head. He was still laughing to himself though, his eyes twinkling like he was thinking something he couldn't say out loud.

She jabbed her finger into his ribs. "What?"

"Nothing," he insisted, grabbing a hold of her wrist to keep her from poking at him again.

Andy jutted her chin out. "Tell me," she demanded.

Sam's mouth twisted to the side and she could practically see him debating how stupid it would be to actually tell her what he thought. "I just, uh…" he shrugged a little, grinning, "Wouldn't have made you for shy, that's all."

Her jaw dropped slowly and her eyes narrowed even more until she was staring at him through two barely opened slits. "Jackass," she muttered, wrenching her wrist out of his grasp. "There's a big difference between, you know, us…" she gestured between them, "And some perv off the street asking me to grab his crotch."

Sam flinched. "You're right, come here," he said, tangling his fingers through the cool strands of hair at the nape of her neck and pressing a kiss against her forehead. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

His gaze soft and he sound genuine. "'S'okay," Andy said, letting her forehead tip down against his. She kissed him, easy at first and then with more intent, nibbling on his lower lip a bit until she felt his hands wander down over her back and settle against her hips, pulling her forward just fraction of an inch. The way she was sitting on his lap – both legs slung to one side, wasn't ideal for what she had in mind, but she rocked forward anyway, grinning against him when she felt his sharp intake of air.

He broke away, eyes immediately looking towards the stairs. "McNally…"

Andy pulled back and cocked an eyebrow. "Now who's shy?" she asked, her lips curling up mischievously.

"Funny," Sam smirked.

Andy grinned and shifted off his lap so that she could sit beside him, curling her arm around his and leaning her head against his shoulder. "I know I am."

Sam just hummed and turned back to the television.

They sat in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes. Sam's hand was warm through her jeans and his fingers slowly trailed up and then back down, stopping every once and a while to brush his thumb over the rough material. It was a sort of familiar pattern, one he followed without thinking.

She looked up at him and at casual glance it would seem that he was watching the movie; his jaw was set and his eyes were focused forward. She could tell he wasn't really seeing it though – aside from the fact that he hadn't rolled his eyes or muttered under his breath about how he couldn't believe she was "making me watch this crap" recently, he had a distant look in his eye and his gaze was landing somewhere beyond the screen.

"You ever miss it?"

"The _Kind Touch Health Spa_?" Sam asked, nodding towards the TV and being purposely dense. "Never been."

She rolled her eyes. "Undercover."

"Oh, that," Sam said, smiling down at her and squeezing her leg. "I don't know, don't really think about it too much."

"Uh huh," Andy replied skeptically. "But if you _were_ to think about it?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, sometimes, I guess."

"Don't worry," Andy assured him with an edge of sarcasm. "I'm not looking for details here or anything."

He took a deep breath in through his nose and then let out a heavy sigh. "Undercover is… I don't know…" he laced his fingers through hers and then held their hands up, quietly inspecting them as he searched for the explanation he was looking for. "You're on your own for the most part, putting together your case. It's exciting. Dangerous, at times."

Andy nodded slowly. "I can see how you'd be good at it," she said. When he raised an eyebrow curiously she continued, "You've got that whole, _I'm a badass drug smuggler but you can totally trust me _vibe going on."

"Oh I do?" he asked, chuckling.

"Yeah, you do," Andy laughed. "There are probably a bunch of heartbroken drug dealers sitting in jail because of you."

A look darkened his eyes. "I never got the one I was really after," Sam confided. "Anton Hill. You know who he is?" Andy shook her head. "Seventy percent of the heroin that comes into this city comes in through Anton, when he's not pimping little girls for fun. I was two weeks away from arresting the guy when…" he trailed off and then nodded to towards the stairs.

"Oh, wow… " Andy breathed, her brow furrowing. She was quiet, processing what he had said. "Would you ever want to go back, if you had the chance?"

Surprisingly, Sam immediately shook his head. "No," he said firmly.

"No?"

He shrugged. "Things change," he said simply, squeezing her hand.

"Right," she nodded, fighting a grin. "You've got Lindsey now."

"Yeah," he agreed quietly, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. He left his hand on her cheek and ducked his head a little until his gaze met hers. "I've uh," his lips twitched with a smile and he winked down at her. "I've got Lindsey now."

She knew it was true – he wouldn't go back to deep cover because of Lindsey – but the way he was looking at her… she kind of felt like her heart was starting to trip over itself and she could feel the flush that crept up her neck.

Andy couldn't stop the grin that spread across her face and she pushed herself up to kiss him quickly before settling back down beside him. A couple of quiet minutes passed and then Sam huffed and rolled his eyes. On screen, Jennifer Love Hewitt was sending tortured, guilty looks at the tiny little angel figurine that sat on her dashboard. "Alright," he grumbled, grabbing the remote from the coffee table. "We're done with this."

"She's just doin' for her kids," Andy argued weakly, laughing when he shot her an incredulous look. "I'm kidding, go ahead and change it," she said, rubbing his shoulder. "I can't believe you lasted as long as you did."

The following Monday was the tie-cutting ceremony, which, as far as Andy was concerned, was pretty anticlimactic. Boyd stood in front of her with his usual smug expression and as he raised the scissors to her tie, he told her, "Officer McNally, can't say I ever thought this would happen."

Andy pressed her lips together and she waited until he was finished cutting through the thick material to respond. "Officer Boyd," she replied even, arching an eyebrow, "Can't say I'm surprised you doubted me."

A brief look flickered through Boyd's eye, Andy could've sworn it was something close to admiration, and then he smirked. "I hear you're leaving us for fifteen."

Andy nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Well," his face softened the slightest bit. "If they don't treat you right over there…" he trailed off, nodding a little. "You know. Come on back."

Caught off guard, Andy couldn't think quickly enough to come up with a clever response. "Thank you, sir."

Boyd's featured hardened again and he just nodded sharply before moving on to the next rookie.

When it was over Andy said goodbye to a couple of people and quickly cleared out her locker for the last time, shoving everything into her duffel bag, and then caught a cab to the Penny. It wasn't until she settled into the back seat and watched twenty-seven disappear behind her that it began to set in. She felt… relieved. Proud. Happy to be done and moving on. Exhilarated, even, laughing to herself until the cab driver shot her a funny look in the rearview mirror.

The rookies from the fifteenth division weren't being cut loose until later that week but they had all agreed to meet up for a little early celebration. Traci was dominating in darts when she got there, as usual, and before she had time to sit down Dov was slapping her on the back and handing her a beer. "To Andy," he said, holding his bottle up like a toast, "For being done with Boyd and finally coming to her senses and joining us at fifteen."

"Here, here," Chris chimed in, clinking their bottles together. Even Gail managed to crack a smile and congratulate her. Andy felt like she was on a sugar high – her heart was thumping wildly in her chest – and she grinned broadly and called winner.

She had just finished getting her ass handed to her by Traci when she noticed Sam walk into the bar. His eyes scanned the room, looking for someone, and when they landed on her he grinned and tipped his chin up in acknowledgment. Andy grinned back, trying not to be too obvious. They hadn't quite decided how open they were going to be about their relationship so she was still trying to play it safe.

Sam nodded to the jukebox tucked away in the corner and didn't wait for her response before making his way over to it. Andy glanced around to see if anyone was anyone was paying attention. They weren't – a new game had started between Chris and Dov and elementary playground insults were being slung around like mud – so Andy slipped away and crossed the bar.

Sam was leaning against the jukebox when she got there, his arms braced against the top of the glass casing. He was pretending, she assumed, to be deciding what to choose. Based on the release date of most of the songs, the music selection hadn't really changed since her dad was a rookie so she guessed he probably knew what was in there. Even still, he seemed to be deep in concentration.

"I didn't think you were going to come," she said, sidling up beside him. Although she was careful to keep her distance, she let her shoulder briefly bump against his arm. She could only see his profile and had it not been for the way his lip curled up at the end, she would have thought that he hadn't heard her.

"Well," he said slowly, pushing in a couple of buttons before standing to his full height, crowding into her space. "Lindsey had some group project, so I thought I'd make an appearance." Andy grinned and instinctively wet her bottom lip. His eyes went to her mouth, watching her with a smirk, and he leaned in just enough that Andy wondered if he was going to kiss her. In the end he didn't, but he did raise his arm and rest it behind her, boxing her in from one side. He smelled clean- like the soap he used after shift and the fresh scent of laundry detergent.

Andy drew in a lungful of air and wondered why she still had trouble breathing properly when he came near her.

It probably had something to do with the way the dark Henley he was wearing was stretching across the muscles of his chest. Or, possibly, the way his jeans clung to the curve of his ass. She had the sudden, intense desire to reach her hand around and slip it into his back pocket.

She refrained though, just barely.

"How'd it go today?" he asked, lowering his voice.

"Well, Boyd actually cut me loose, so…" she arched her back a little and grinned when he noticed, "I can't complain."

Sam nodded and chewed on his bottom lip for a second. "Congratulations," he said, a slow smile beginning to make it's way across his face. "I'm, uh…" he grinned quickly, flashing his dimples, "I'm proud of you."

Andy pressed her lips together, trying to hide a pleased grin. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded. He glanced over at the bar. "You gonna let me buy you a drink… copper?"

"You sure you want to do that? What if Best sees?" she teased, even though he didn't seem too concerned about the prospect when he'd been pushing her back against the jukebox. The _jukebox _for goodness sake, like they were in some bad '50s sitcom. Andy would have laughed if it weren't for the glint in Sam's eye.

He shrugged. "He'll just see a guy buying his neighbor a drink to celebrate."

"Nothing wrong with that," Andy agreed, tossing another flirtatious grin his way before allowing him to guide her to the bar, his hand low on her back.

They were halfway through their drinks, making friendly small talk, when Dov and Traci joined them, bumping into Andy and arguing loudly about something that had happened on shift.

Andy tried to pay attention to them but underneath the bar Sam's hand landed on her knee.

At first she thought that maybe it was unintentional, just a reflex of his now, because surely Sam would not, _would not,_ be trying to feel her up in a bar with their coworkers (or, future coworkers) sitting less than two feet away.

But then his finger began to make slow, intentional circles over the spot where her ACL scar was. She tensed and looked over at him but he just ignored her and told Epstein that Nash was right.

"Damn it." Dov groaned while Traci whooped in victory. Sam's hand wandered higher, lightly tracing along the inseam of her jeans.

"I told you," Traci said, pumping her fist. "Andy, next round of drinks is on Dov."

Andy tried to reply but at that exact moment Sam chose to brush his knuckle down her zipper, so her response came out as more of a whimper. Traci shot her a weird look and Sam arched an eyebrow. "You alright McNally?" he asked, running his hand back down so that his warm palm was spread out over the inside of her thigh. His fingers stroked behind her knee.

"Yeah, I'm good," she said, smiling brightly at Traci before turning to Sam and hissing through clenched teeth. "Cut that out."

Sam blinked and took a sip of his drink. "Cut what out?" he asked innocently, tapping his finger up her leg. He stopped just short of her center and smirked when she let out a short, frustrated breath. "You really want me to stop?"

She felt her face flush and she narrowed her eyes. "Bastard," she muttered. Sam's hand was on the move again and against her better judgment she spread her legs wider to give him more access.

"Yeah," he said, chuckling a little when he felt her move. "That's what I figured."

She thought she heard someone saying her name but the sound of blood whooshing through her ears was drowning everything out. Sam experimentally grazed his knuckles over the seam between her legs and then, at the hitch in her breath, pressed the heel of his palm right against her.

She gasped and her hips jumped forward.

Sam grinned behind his drink.

"Andy," Dov called loudly and impatiently, like he was having to repeat himself. His voice cut through the fog that had settled in her brain. "You're up."

Andy stared over at him blankly and blinked, his words not registering fully.

Dov jerked his thumb back to the darts game. "It's your turn," he told her, looking slightly concerned.

"Oh, okay," she said, banging her knees against the counter as she scrambled to stand up onto wobbly legs. Sam discreetly tried to steady her with a hand on her arm. "I'm uh… I'm just going to go to the bathroom first. I'll be right there."

"I'll come with you," Traci piped up, hopping off of her own barstool.

Andy shot a hesitant look back at Sam and then smiled shakily at her friend. "Okay."

When they made it to the bathroom, Andy quickly locked herself inside the stall and took a couple of deep breaths, trying to get it together. She listened and waited until she thought she was alone before cautiously pushing the stall door open.

Traci stood in front of her with her arms crossed over her chest. "So," she said bluntly, arching an eyebrow. "You and Swarek, huh?"

"What?" Andy laughed weakly, trying to feign innocence as she dodged Traci and moved around to the sink.

"Don't play dumb," Traci replied, bracing herself with one arm against the stall so she could look at Andy in the mirror. Her nail tapped a beat against the metal. "I know something was going on out there."

Andy sighed and turned the water on to wash her hands. "I don't even know what that was."

"But it was _something_," Traci pressed. "Right?"

Andy took a moment to soap up her hands before nodding. She wasn't sure why she felt like Traci was getting ready to lecture her.

"How long?"

Andy turned the water on again and spent an abnormally long amount of time rinsing the soap away before shutting it off and reaching for a paper towel. "'Bout a month," she said, drying her hands. She turned around and leaned back against the sink, her fingers curling around the edge of the counter.

"A month?" Traci asked, her eyes widening with surprise. "And you didn't tell me?"

"I'm sorry Trace, we just… we haven't had the _talk _about what we were going to tell people and then I didn't want to mess with the transfer…" she trailed off and shook her head, realizing that her excuses probably sounded lame. "I'm sorry, I should have told you."

Traci shrugged, not really seeming too upset about being kept in the dark. "I understand," she said. She was quiet for a second and then asked, "What about his niece?"

Andy felt tension creep into her shoulders at the mention of Lindsey. "What about her?"

"Does she know?"

"Yeah," Andy nodded, "Of course she knows."

"_What_ does she know?" Traci amended.

"She knows that Sam and I are together."

"Yeah," Traci said slowly, "But what does that mean?"

Andy's forehead wrinkled as she tried to piece together her answer. "It means that we're together, I guess. I don't know, Traci, we're just… it's complicated. We haven't really discussed what it means."

"If it's complicated for you think of how complicated it is for her," Traci said. "You can't just do that to a kid, Andy, especially someone like Sam's niece, she needs stability…"

"Whoa whoa whoa," Andy interrupted her, holding her hand up, palm facing out. "I think I know Lindsey a little bit better than you do," she said defensively.

"Yeah," Traci acknowledged, "But I think I have a little bit more experience with _kids _than you do."

"No offense, but you have experience with _your kid_. Lindsey's kind of a unique situation."

"I know, which is even more of a reason to _think_ about this Andy," Traci said emphatically. "Have you thought about how much it's going to hurt her if she really gets attached to you and then you and Sam break up?"

"Of course I've thought about it," Andy snapped. "Do you really think that I _haven't_?"

Traci held her hand out. "All I'm saying is that it's not casual when there's a kid involved, Andy. Leo didn't even _meet _Jerry until we'd been together almost six months."

"Yeah, I realize that," Andy said, throwing her arms out. "I never said that Sam and I were _casual._"

Traci blinked twice. "So it's serious then?" she asked, sounding surprised.

"Is that so hard to believe?" Andy shot back.

"It's just, well…" Traci hesitated. "It just seems kind of fast, that's all. I just hope you know what you're doing."

Andy's eyebrows shot up. "You're acting like I've never been in a serious relationship before."

Traci snorted. "The longest relationship you've been in was with Homicide Luke and look how well that turned out."

"Well, I didn't love Luke," Andy replied, the words leaving her mouth before she had time to think about them.

Traci looked truly and completely stunned. Andy imagined if she turned and looked in the mirror she'd see a similar expression. "You _love _him?"

Andy sighed and pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose. "That's not what I said. Look, we haven't like, sat down and talked about it or anything, but yes, it's serious."

"And it's serious for Sam, too?" Andy went to say something but Traci interrupted her, "I know you haven't talked about it, but just from what you can tell…?"

Andy felt her heart clench in her chest and warmth spread in her belly when she thought about Sam. Or, more specifically, the way he treated her and cared about her. If he _wasn't_ serious about her, she really couldn't imagine what him actually being serious about a woman would like. "Yeah," she said, "It's serious for him, too."

Traci let out a deep breath and visibly relaxed. "Okay, but just… talk to him, alright? Make sure you're _really_ on the same wavelength. I just don't want you to get hurt."

Andy nodded. They had been dancing around the subject, teasing and making jokes about it, but they had yet to actually define what was going on. She knew that it was something they needed to do. "Yeah," she said, "Yeah, I will."

"So," Traci said, a playful smile spreading across her face. "You _love _him, huh?"

Andy rolled her eyes and brought her hands up to cover her face, letting out a groan. "I didn't say that."

"Uh-huh," Traci teased.

"It's just…" Andy let her hands drop. "It's easy with Sam, you know? With Luke I always felt like I was an inconvenience and that he had to rearrange his schedule to make me fit in but with Sam…." she trailed off, shaking her head, "I don't know, even before we were together…"

"You fit?" Traci offered.

Andy nodded. "Yeah. I do."

Traci's face softened into a genuine smile. "I'm happy for you then," she said, reaching out to squeeze Andy's arm before nodding towards the door. "We should probably get back out there. Dov's probably having a fit."

"Interrogation over?" Andy asked as she crossed the cheap linoleum.

"Just one more question," Traci said.

With her hand on the door, Andy stopped and looked back.

Traci grinned wickedly. "Is it good?"

Andy let out a strangled laugh and her knees slumped a little as she pulled open the door. "Heavenly," she swooned, making Traci laugh as they both exited the bathroom.

They both stopped in their tracks when they saw Sam leaning against the wall opposite the door. Traci's eyes widened and she looked back at Andy, who seemed to be frozen in her place. "I'm just gonna go play for you," Traci said, hitching her thumb over her shoulder.

"Yeah," Andy nodded, her eyes never leaving Sam's. "I'll be there in a minute."

Traci dipped her head to Sam before slipping away. "Officer Swarek."

With a wry grin Sam replied, "Officer Nash." When they were alone he looked back at Andy and raised an eyebrow. "Heavenly?"

Andy wished the ground could open up and swallow her right then and there. She thought quickly. "The new soap," she said, holding up her fingers. "It smells a lot better than what they used to have."

"I hadn't noticed," Sam grinned, playing along but clearly not believing her.

"Well," Andy said, still trying to recover. "You should next time."

Sam chuckled and held up his phone, waving it back and forth. "I've got to go pick up Lindsey, I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Oh, okay," Andy said. She took a step closer to him, which in the already cramped hallway meant that they were almost touching. Sam reached his arm out and hooked his fingers through her belt loop, pulling her the rest of the way until she was right up against him. She jumped a little, skittish, and nervously glanced around, but calmed down when she realized they were alone.

Sam grinned down at her. "You wanna come by later, when you get home?"

She didn't like the way he was looking at her- like he knew that he knew the answer without her having to even say it. Andy felt like she needed to get some control back. "Do _you_ want me to come by later?" she asked, narrowing her eyes and putting it back on him.

"Yes," he answered easily, obviously not feeling the need for power plays.

Andy smiled and tapped her finger against his chest. "Okay."

Sam grinned and kissed her quickly, too quickly, before dropping his hand from around her waist. "Good," he said, leading her out of the small hallway, "I'll see you later then."

He left and Andy rejoined her friends at the darts board. They stayed for a few more hours, making up silly challenges and rules and drinking games, before one by one peeling off and heading home.

On the cab ride back Andy told herself that she was going to talk to Sam that night; that she was going to get his face in her hands and make him tell her what was going on.

It was late – she knew that Lindsey had probably gone to bed hours ago – so she rapped lightly on the door. She was feeling tipsy and silly but she told herself that she could pull it together.

But then he answered wearing a pair of reading glasses she'd only seen him in a couple of times before.

It uh... it wasn't a bad look.

She was caught off guard and literally took a step back, grinning up at him like a giggly fool.

He was trying to hide a grin, she could tell, when he tipped his head down and peered over the top rim at her. "You alright there, McNally?"

She swallowed audibly. "I just uh," she waved her hand around, "Like this look you've got going on here."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, lips twitching and eyes twinkling.

"Yeah," Andy nodded. "It's very, um… sexy professor."

"Sexy professor?" he repeated, licking his lips.

He was clearly amused, grinning so broadly that she thought his face was going to crack. It was a such rare thing – Sam grinning so openly – and she liked it so much that she kinda wanted to see what she could do to make him keep grinning like that.

So, she might have played it up a little bit.

"Mmmhmm," she murmured. She ran her tongue across her top lip and mused indulgently, "Kinda makes me want to jump on you and do naughty school girl things to you."

He laughed, loud and surprised. "Well by all means," he said, pushing the door open and pulling her inside. He pulled with a little too much strength and she crashed hard against his chest but it didn't seem to faze him; his mouth closed over hers and two seconds later she felt her coat hit the floor and his arms hitch her up around his waist.

She helped instinctively, coiling her legs around him, as he kicked the door closed and walked them back to his bedroom. "Come on McNally," he said between kisses. "Let's see if you can earn an A."

She grinned and yanked his shirt up over his head. "So it's a hands on project then?"

"Oh yeah," he said, dropping her unceremoniously onto the bed. "I want you to get a good feel for it."

He reached down for the hem of her shirt and she let him tug off of her before hooking her fingers into the waistband of his sweats. "Is there a, um…" She looked up at him, smiling coyly, and pushed his sweats and boxers down in one go. "An oral exam too?"

He drew in a sharp, overly dramatic breath. "Andy McNally!" he scolded playfully, nudging her back. "What has gotten into you?"

"Nothing yet," she purred, wiggling out of her jeans as he climbed on to the bed next to her. She shoved at his shoulder until he was flat on his back and then she straddled his lap, grinning wickedly down at him. "But I was kind of hoping you'd be up for it."

His eyes widened briefly and he let out a choked laugh, shaking his head. Recovering quickly, he hooked his hands under her knees and easily flipped her in the air, dropping her on her back.

"Sam!" she squealed, giggling delightedly as he crawled up over her.

"Uh uh uh," he chided, reaching down to wrap both of her legs around his waist before bracing himself on either side of her head. He raised an eyebrow and looked at her pointedly, "That's Mr. Swarek to you."

Andy grinned and tangled her fingers through his soft hair as he began planting kisses along her jawline and down the column of her throat. "Mr. Swarek," she exclaimed, her mind going deliciously hazy at the feel of his warm mouth on her skin, "None of the other professors do that!"

They didn't talk that night, at least not about anything important. Later, when Sam was pulling the comforter up over them, he brushed her hair out of her face and grinned down at her. "Heavenly, huh?" he teased.

"Shut up," she mumbled, her words muffled by the pillow she hid her face in.

He just hummed and switched off the lamp before pulling her back against him.

When his alarm clock went off the next morning, Andy groaned and pulled a pillow over her head. She was still leaving early, before Lindsey woke up, but there was a little bit of time before she had to go. The bed shifted when Sam got out of it, he wasn't one to hit the snooze button which didn't really surprise her at all, and a couple minutes later she heard the shower turn on. Groaning again, she took a deep breath and then pushed herself up.

She stumbled around in the room, pulling some clothes on, before padding out to the kitchen to make coffee. Sam usually woke her up by waving a fresh mug under her nose but it was kind of an unspoken agreement that if she didn't have to work that day, she'd be the one to make the coffee.

His coffeemaker was old and slow and every time she had to use it she reminded herself of her promise to get him a new one for Christmas. Maybe one of the ones that used the little pods. While she was stretching her arms over her head, her conversation with Traci came rushing back to her. She'd been able to push it out of her head the night before but then, standing alone in the quiet kitchen, she could practically hear Traci telling her to talk to him, a nagging little voice that wouldn't go away.

When the coffeemaker finally finished brewing, Andy poured two mugs and added creamer to hers, leaving his black. She carefully made her way back to the bedroom, proud of herself for not spilling anything on the trip from the kitchen, and then walked over to the small bathroom.

Sam was out of the shower and standing at his mirror with a towel slung low around his waist, getting ready to shave. Andy handed him his mug without a word and then pressed a kiss against his bare back as she moved behind him. She flipped the toilet lid closed so she could sit on it, pulling her knee up to her chest.

"Thanks," Sam muttered distractedly, taking a long sip of coffee before setting the mug down on the counter. His eyes were still bleary and a little red, like he wasn't fully awake yet.

Andy just nodded and let out a loud yawn, rubbing her hand over her face to try and wake herself up. Sam raised an eyebrow at her but then turned back to the mirror and slathered shaving cream over his jaw and under his nose. He started there first, moving the razor in short little lines along his top lip, before rinsing it with warm water and turning his left cheek towards the mirror.

Andy had never seen him shave before, usually she was hurrying home to get herself ready, and it felt surprisingly intimate to just sit and watch part of his morning routine. He didn't seem to be bothered by her presence, at least not that she could tell. She was struck again with the sense that she just… fit.

"You okay, McNally?" he asked, drawing the razor in a long stripe along his jaw. He was finishing up, tilting his face from side to side to see if he had missed anything.

Andy blinked, drawn out of her reverie. "Yeah," she said. "You uh…" she scratched at a spot right below her ear and then pointed at him. "You missed a little bit."

"Oh, thanks," he said, pulling his skin taut so he could get it. "Is that it?"

She knew that he was asking if he'd missed anything else, but when she opened her mouth to speak that wasn't the question she was answering. "Sam, you and me… it's serious, right?"

Sam turned to her with grin, like he was going to tease her, but when he caught sight of her expression he must have changed his mind. His eyes darkened and he set his razor down before reaching over and covering her knee with his hand, looking at her intently.

Andy wished for a second that she had considered her appearance before asking – there was undoubtedly mascara smeared beneath her eyes and her hair was in a messy rat's nest on top of her head, not to mention the too-big sweats the swallowed her frame.

He was quiet for a stretch, just looking at her, and just as she was beginning to seriously regret bringing it up, he nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "Yeah, Andy," he said finally, rubbing his thumb over the dip in her kneecap. "You and me. It's serious."


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: First, thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed this story! I cannot believe the last chapter hit 1000 reviews... it's pretty overwhelming and completely crazy, but I am so appreciative to those of you who take the time to leave feedback. I really cannot tell you how much it means. **

**Second, I apologize (again!) that this chapter took so long. It ended up being longer than I was expecting and there was not natural stopping point, so I just kept going. I hope that you will enjoy it!**

**Third, A big thanks to Cocobean 2206 for the idea of a group date!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue. **

* * *

><p>Their first day working together didn't go so well.<p>

Sam knew that he was mostly, if not entirely, to blame.

The problems began the day before. Sam had actually been in a good mood that morning – there were certain _benefits_, he'd discovered, to Andy getting a few days off between jobs and not having to hurry out of bed as soon as the alarm went off. The rookies of fifteen had been cut loose and, in a rare moment of goodwill that he would later come to regret, Sam handed the keys to the cruiser over and told Epstein that he could call the shots that day.

It was a rainy day and they ended up pulling over every single motorist that didn't have their lights on, chasing down cars going maybe three miles over the speed limit, responding to every call within a twenty block radius and, as icing to the already massive amounts of paperwork cake, being involved in a hit and run.

To be fair, it wasn't really Epstein's fault – the car came barreling out of some tiny side-street alley – but the bumper of the cruiser was knocked half off and the front passenger's side tire was blown which meant Sam found himself outside in the freezing rain trying to jack the car up while Oliver heckled him over the radio.

To say that he was grouchy, and not in a _just-woke-up-get-me-some-coffee_ kind of way, when he finally left the barn would be an understatement. He was irritated with Epstein for no good reason, frustrated with himself for pretty much asking for the type of day he'd had and chilled down to his bones; the hot shower at the station he'd been looking forward to since an hour into his shift had turned cold halfway through. The string of profanities he let out as the cold water hit his back probably would have made a sailor blush.

Andy was helping Lindsey with her homework when he got home and there was crap spread out all over the kitchen table like a school supplies tornado had swept through. "I guess we'll just eat in the living room tonight," he muttered, folding his arms and taking in the scene.

"As opposed to every other night?" Andy asked, head ducked down as she used a ruler to draw on some graph paper. She hadn't meant it sarcastically, at least he didn't think so, and it was true, but some reason it still crawled all over him.

He set his jaw and waited for her to glance up at him before raising an eyebrow.

Her smile fell and an expression of disbelief crossed her face, like she couldn't believe he was actually upset about the table. "We can clean it up if it really matters that much to you."

"Whatever," he replied childishly. "Stay there, I don't care."

The worst part was he _knew _he was in a crappy mood but he didn't particularly want to do anything about it.

Andy cautiously made her way into the kitchen a little while later and tried to talk to him while he got dinner ready (even offered to do it herself, which was nice but – no, absolutely not, he once asked her to cook pasta and she ended up burning the entire pot of noodles) but after being met with nothing but grunts and sarcasm, she mumbled something under her breath about male PMS and disappeared into the living room.

If he wasn't going to be feeding her, he knew she probably wouldn't have stuck around.

Then Lindsey, in a spectacular case of bad timing, asked if she could maybe, possibly, perhaps go to the movies with a group of friends the next night.

She was usually so much better about knowing when to ask stuff like that – so much so that he sometimes wondered if there was some secret radio frequency that broadcasted when all of his defenses were down and he was most likely to say yes to whatever she wanted.

Sam let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes for a second before responding. "Who all's going?" he finally asked, stabbing at a piece of limp, over-steamed broccoli. Andy was staring at him, eyes pleading with him to be reasonable like she already knew there was a good chance he was going to completely overreact.

"Um…" Lindsey sounded nervous, which was his first clue that he wasn't going to like her answer. "Just some friends from school."

Sam looked over at her. She was shredding her napkin into tiny little pieces and hadn't even touched her food. He picked up the remote and muted the volume on the television down before asking, "What friends from school?"

"Hannah, obviously, and you don't know the rest of them," Lindsey told him. "But they're good kids, they never get into any trouble, I swear."

"Names, Lindsey," Sam demanded, setting his fork down. "I want names."

Lindsey took a deep breath and glanced over at Andy before starting, "Well, there's like, six girls going, counting me – Hannah, Margie, Annie, Natasha and Denise– they were all at Hannah's birthday party, and then there's like, three or four boys that might go, I don't know."

Sam's eyebrows shot up and his entire body tensed. His hands made fists on top of his wobbly TV tray. "Boys?" he asked sharply. "So this is a date?"

Lindsey shook her head urgently; her dark curls bouncing all over the place. "No Uncle Sam, it's not a date, it's just a big group thing. We were just talking about it at lunch today."

"What boys are going?"

"You're not going to know who they are," Lindsey said. "Unless you've like… been stalking me or something." She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Have you been stalking me? Do you have someone following me? I knew it, I knew you probably… "

"Don't be ridiculous," he interrupted her, letting out an exasperated huff. "I don't have anyone following you, I just want to know who you're going with."

Lindsey set her mouth in a hard line and then told him, "Trevor, Ben, Justin and Mark, boys from my class. I can give you their last names too, if you want to make sure they haven't been to juvie."

Sam had been watching Andy and when Lindsey said Mark's name, Andy's eyes widened for a split second and a small smile stretched across her face. She quickly fought it, keeping her expression neutral when she turned to meet Sam's gaze.

It was enough of a tell for Sam to know. He cracked his neck from side to side and then asked, "Mark's the kid from the grocery store?" It wasn't really a question.

Lindsey shot a accusatory look over at Andy and Andy held her hands up in innocence. "I didn't tell, I swear."

"She didn't tell me," Sam vouched for Andy, to her visible relief. "But is that it? You like this kid…"

Lindsey's face flushed red, obviously embarrassed about openly discussing who she liked with her _uncle. _"Uncle Sam… no, that's not…" she stammered, looking everywhere but at him. "It's not a date, it's just a group thing."

"Well, the answer's no," Sam said. "You're too young to date."

"But it's not a date…" Lindsey screeched, teenage sass giving way to high pitched whining.

Sam blinked. "Are you planning on going?"

"Yes." She sounded like she had to refrain from adding a _duh _on the end.

"Is a boy that you like planning on going?"

"Yes," she answered.

Sam shrugged. "Sounds like a date to me."

Lindsey persisted, whining, "But he didn't ask me and it's not like we're going alone…"

"Lindsey, you asked, I said no. End of story." Sam said, wiping his hands with his napkin.

"But… Uncle Sam…" she sputtered, looking over to Andy for help.

Andy looked pained, caught in the middle. She wrinkled her nose and mouthed, "Sorry."

"Lindsey, I don't want to hear anymore about it. You're not going and that's final," he said, unmuting the TV.

As the sound filtered back into the room, Lindsey stared at Sam with her mouth gaping open slightly. "I _knew_ it," she huffed after a minute, getting to her feet and stomping out of the room. "You never let me do anything."

Sam rolled his eyes and cut into his chicken. "Can you believe that?" he muttered after taking a bite.

The look on Andy's face wasn't quite as understanding as he was expecting it to be.

"What?" he asked densely, holding his hands out – fork and knife pointing in opposite directions.

Andy shook her head and let out a soft, mirthless chuckle, turning back to the television.

"What?" he asked again, louder. "Don't be quiet now."

Her head whipped around and she glared at him, eyes ablaze. "It's not like she was asking to go to a kegger, I think they wanted to go see that dancing penguin movie."

"So?"

Andy hesitated and Sam could tell that she was trying to carefully choose her words. "I just think you might have been a little hasty, that's all."

Sam snorted. "Well, you're not Lindsey's mother so it doesn't really matter what you think."

The very second the words left his mouth he knew it was absolutely the worst thing he could have said in that moment.

First of all, it wasn't even a little bit true, of course he valued her opinion and second, just the look on her face… her eyes widened and filled with hurt and all of her features just crumpled. Sam dropped his head, took a deep breath, and then looked back up at her. "McNally, that's not…"

"No, you know what?" she said, pressing her napkins to her lips before throwing it on her plate and standing up. "I'm done. I'm going home."

He tried to grab for her arm as she walked by him. "Andy… "

She jerked out of his grasp. "I'll see you in the morning."

Letting her go, he sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. A few seconds later the front door opened and then slammed shut. He could feel the rattle in his backbone.

The next morning Sam waited for her out by his truck, holding a cup of coffee like a white flag of surrender. He was planning on shoving it into her hands and letting her take a couple of good long sips before admitting that he was an idiot and asking her to forgive him. He had thought of all sorts of embarrassing things to say if he needed to, but he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Five minutes before they needed to leave in order to get to the station so they could have time in the locker room before parade, Sam started to shuffle his feet, getting impatient.

Three minutes after that he checked his watch and tried to tell himself they still had plenty of time. He climbed into the truck and started the engine both because it was absolutely freezing outside and in order to save time; they could talk on the way to the station.

Six minutes later he told himself they'd be fine if they streamlined the whole locker room process – yanked on their uniforms, didn't make small talk with anyone – and hauled ass to parade.

Two minutes after that he figured they could make it if they went straight to parade and changed afterwards.

Another two minutes and he was good and officially annoyed. They were going to be late. For her first day at fifteen. He jumped out of the truck, leaving it idling, and went and banged on her door.

When she didn't answer he started to get concerned – there was no way that Andy McNally was going to be late for her first day. He peeked in the windows that framed her door, noting that she still hadn't gotten them frosted like he'd been telling her for weeks to do, and when he didn't see any movement in the house he pulled his phone out to call her, speed dial three.

"Hey," she answered quietly, sounding like she was making an effort to keep her voice down.

He breathed out a sigh of relief that she was sounded okay but then immediately switched back over to being annoyed. "Where are you?" he asked without preamble.

"I'm at the station," she replied, still talking quietly. There was a little bit of an echo, like she was cupping her hand around the phone.

"At the stati…" he broke off, pinching the bridge of his nose. "McNally, I've been waiting on you for twenty minutes."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why?" he asked, dodging the ice on the sidewalk as he made his way back to the truck. "I thought we were going to ride in together?

"We never talked about that."

Sam paused, truly dumbfounded. She was absolutely the most stubborn, passive-aggressive individual he'd ever met. He blinked and shook his head a little. "Right," he replied sarcastically, "Because it's such an illogical conclusion to come to, I can't believe I just assumed …"

"Well, you know what they say about assuming things," Andy interrupted, sounding irritated with him which just frustrated him even more. "And why would you wait twenty minutes to call me?"

"Because I didn't think you were going to stand me up," he retorted, swinging himself up into the cab.

"Look… I've got to go," Andy told him, ignoring the last thing he said. He could hear the metallic clang of lockers opening closing in the background. "Best wants to meet with me before parade." She sighed and then he could hear the tiniest smidge of concern enter her voice, "You better hurry, you're going to be late."

"Yeah, I _know _I'm going to be late," he growled, pulling onto the street and cutting off another car. He got honked at and barely resisted the urge to flip the guy off.

"Well… just hurry," Andy advised unhelpfully before he heard a beep and then the empty dial tone.

He groaned and threw his cellphone into the passenger's seat.

He wasn't actually _that_ late to parade – Best had already started but he was able to slip in next to Oliver in the back. Andy was sitting at the very front, of course, her long braid hanging down her back and swinging to the side when she ducked her head to whisper something to Traci. She didn't bother to look back at him even when Best called him out. "Nice of you to join us, Swarek."

"Do what I can," he replied casually, tugging his belt into place as he leaned against a table. His eyes were focused on Andy, just waiting for her to turn around and meet his gaze, but she never did.

Oliver witnessed the exchange or, rather, lack of exchange, and when Sam looked at over at him he just grinned broadly. "Rough morning?" he asked, his brow furrowing with false sympathy.

"Shut up," Sam replied, taking the coffee cup from his hand and downing what was left before handing it back. "That's disgusting."

Oliver just threw the cup into the nearest trash bin. "McNally got here with time to spare," he murmured quietly.

"Yeah," Sam said, like that had been the plan all along. "And?"

"Just assumed you guys would ride in together, that's all," Oliver replied, shrugging.

Sam's mouth twitched, wanting to admit that he'd assumed the very same thing. Instead, he folded his arms over his chest and looked forward. "Well, you know what they say about assuming." It came out a lot harsher than he'd intended. He was crabby, he couldn't help it – he didn't get much sleep and his jackass filter was off.

Oliver raised an eyebrow but turned his attention back to Best without another word. After a few more minutes and a warning – "It's icy out there, be careful" – assignments were given and they were released. Andy was paired with Noelle and Sam was with Oliver; he wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved not to be working with Andy.

"You and me buddy," Oliver said as they waited for everyone to file out of the room. "It's been a while."

Sam hummed a response as he watched Andy make her way to the door. She had to walk right by him to get out so she was going to be forced to acknowledge him at some point. He dropped down a little more, sticking his legs further out into the small walkway, so she'd have to either trip over him or ask him to move.

However, Noelle caught up to her when they were about three feet away and started in on laying down expectations and ground rules and giving instructions. Andy nodded, trying to follow along, and when they passed by him her eyes just flicked up to meet his for a fraction of a second as she carefully stepped over his out-stretched legs.

He quickly decided he wasn't a big fan of the silent treatment routine.

When they were gone, Sam dropped his head and sighed, trying to ward off the tension headache that was forming behind his eyes.

"Trouble in paradise?" Oliver asked, not sounding quite as gleeful as he had five minutes earlier.

Sam groaned and then admitted, "I might have said something last night that pissed her off."

"You?" Oliver scoffed mockingly. "I don't believe it."

Sam chuckled a little at that, straightening up.

"She'll forgive you brother, I always do." Oliver assured him, clapping him on the back as they finally exited the parade room. "Let's go chase some bad guys, eh?"

They didn't get to chase any bad guys. Temperatures had dipped well below freezing that night, causing the already rain-soaked streets from the day before to ice up like skating rinks. Salt and sand had been put out but the roads were still slick during rush hour traffic, causing what seemed like an endless number of traffic accidents.

Sam and Oliver were called to a particularly bad one – a multiple vehicle collision in the middle of a busy intersection. One car hadn't been able to stop at the red light and skidded into oncoming traffic, causing a pile up in all directions. Noelle and Andy were already there when they arrived, checking on the occupants of the cars and setting up cones. Noelle barked orders at them, asking Sam to help her while Oliver and Andy tried to direct traffic. Thankfully it seemed like there were only superficial injuries – even though there were several cars involved they had all been going slowly due to the ice.

Sam realized very quickly that working with Andy was going to present a whole new set of challenges he'd never dealt with on the job before and that he hadn't really been expecting to deal with when she brought up transferring. He seemed to be hyperaware of her – where she was in relation to him, how long it would take him to get to her, what she was doing and if she was doing it correctly. When she was with Boyd he'd been able to push it out of his mind and not think about all of the dangerous things she could be getting herself into, but that wasn't so easy to do when she was standing right in front of him.

It wasn't even like she was doing something that risky, although it was pretty hazardous to be standing out there in the middle of traffic on an icy road, but all of his protective instincts were going into overdrive. If Andy knew what he was thinking it would probably just piss her off even more and she'd accuse him of implying that she couldn't do her job. He couldn't help it though, how his focus kept shifting to her every couple of seconds, just for peace of mind that she was okay.

Everything was fine until Oliver cracked a joke that Andy laughed at, lowering her arms just for a second to clutch stomach. An impatient motorist took it as a sign to go and Andy had to jump out of the way to keep from getting hit.

Sam watched the whole thing like it was happening in slow motion. He saw the car start to go and his heart felt like it was going to pound right out of his chest in the half a second it took Andy to get out of the way. "God damn it, McNally," he yelled at her over the noise of the traffic, "Pay attention!"

Oliver's mouth gaped open and even Noelle's eyes widened for the briefest of moments.

It was the first thing he'd said to her since the phone call earlier that morning and, given the circumstances, it came across like a training officer giving a rookie a hard time rather than someone who cared about her being concerned for her safety.

Andy looked over at him, positively stricken and embarrassed, before she blinked and her face became a mask of indifference. She straightened, squaring her shoulders beneath the standard department-issued navy jacket she wore, and nodded a little, as if she was resigning herself to his asshatery and bucking herself up to just deal with it. "Yes sir, " she replied neutrally.

"It was my fault," Oliver called out, trying to smooth things over. "Won't happen again."

She wouldn't look at him for the remainder of the time they were at the scene.

When they finally got everything straightened out, Sam and Oliver climbed back into the cruiser and headed to another call.

"You've got to lighten up on her man," Oliver told him, carefully navigating through traffic. "I mean, I get it, no special treatment and all that, but just… chill out."

"That's not…" Sam trailed off, shaking his head. He really didn't want to get into it, so he changed the subject. "Are you letting Hannah go to that movie tonight?"

"The dancing penguin one?" Oliver asked, glancing in the rearview mirror. "Yeah, why?"

"You're aware that there are boys going?"

Oliver looked over at him like he had sprouted three heads. "Yeah, I'm _aware._"

"And you're just… fine with that?"

"Hannah's known most of 'em since she was in the third grade. They're pretty good kids and, you know, I trust Hannah. Plus," he added, "They all know I own a gun and that I can easily find out where they live."

Sam let out a snort of laughter. "Lindsey asked about going last night," he said after a minute, squinting against the glare of the sun reflecting off the ice.

"And let me guess… you said no?"

Sam nodded. "Kinda freaked out on her about it."

Oliver hesitated for a second, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. "Look, can I give you some advice?"

"If I say no, is that gonna stop you?"

"No," Oliver admitted with a slight grin before his tone turned serious. "But listen, I know that with everything that, you know, happened with Sarah and with some of the stuff we see on the job you probably want to keep Lindsey holed up in the house at all times or at least, like, put a tracking device on her or something, but you can't do that. It'll drive you crazy and it'll drive her crazy and before you know it she'll be rebelling and sneaking out and getting tattoos and doing all kinds of…"

"I get the picture," Sam said, holding up a hand and interrupting him. He didn't need Oliver to go into all of the different ways in which Lindsey could rebel.

Oliver nodded. "Right, so, you can't do that. You've gotta let her be a kid. And if all she wants to do is go see some gay penguin dancing around…" he broke off, shrugging. "Pick your battles, man."

Sam eyed his friend warily. "That's good advice."

Oliver brushed an invisible piece of lint from his shoulder. "Yeah, I know."

"You come up with that on your own?"

Oliver cut his eyes over. "What are you trying to say?"

Sam shrugged. "Just that it sounds like something Zoe would say, that's all."

"You don't think that in all my years of parenthood I might have picked up a little bit of wisdom?" Oliver asked, sounding offended.

Sam just raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, okay," Oliver admitted, shrugging. "I didn't want Hannah to go to the movies either but Zoe informed me that I was being a dumbass."

"Andy basically said the same thing," Sam told him commiseratingly.

"Is that what led to the," Oliver waved his hand around, searching for a description for what he had witnessed, "Freeze out this morning?"

Sam nodded. "I may have told her that her opinion didn't matter because she wasn't Lindsey's mom."

Oliver was quiet for a stretch before letting out a low whistle. "Wow. You really are a dumbass."

"Yeah," Sam grimaced. Just thinking about her face from the night before was like a punch in the gut.

Oliver looked over at him curiously. "So did you just need a break from getting laid all the time or…?"

"Shut up."

Oliver chuckled and then glanced sidelong at his friend. "You want some more advice?" he offered.

Sam thought for a moment and then threw his hands up. "Sure, why not?"

"Tell her how important she is to you and then beg for forgiveness," Oliver replied immediately with wisdom that came from years of experience.

"Yeah," Sam nodded, letting out a resigned sigh. "That's what I was thinking." They rode in silence for a couple of minutes before Sam asked, "So the penguin's gay?"

"Pretty sure, yep."

Sam jutted his chin out, chewing on his bottom lip. "Huh. Interesting."

At the end of what seemed like another endless shift, Sam waited for Andy outside of the locker room, the sole of his boot flat against wall and one hand rubbing out the kinks in his neck. He was exhausted and the cinderblock was cool and hard against the back of his head so he let his eyes drift closed only to open them with a start every time the locker door swung open.

She was taking her sweet time that was for sure, way longer than he knew it actually took her to get ready – probably trying to wait him out, hoping that he'd give up and go home without her so that they wouldn't have to talk.

He was just as stubborn as she was though and he wasn't going anywhere, so unless she climbed out through the ventilation shaft he was at least going to _see_ her before she left.

Nash and Peck had already gone, both seeming to know exactly why he was standing there. Nash shot daggers at him with her eyes and Peck didn't even try to hide her wide toothy grin, looking endlessly amused by whatever she thought was going on. He kept his face neutral, not really acknowledging but not ignoring them either. Noelle left a couple of minutes later and actually rolled her eyes at him, mumbling, "You're a damned fool," under her breath.

Yes, he was aware, thank you.

And he was very much aware of how it looked for him to be waiting on her; he was getting ready to grovel because he was in the proverbial doghouse and it was obvious to pretty much everyone with half a clue. He hoped she could appreciate the hits that his dignity was taking with every minute that passed by but in reality he knew that she was probably doing it on purpose just to knock him down a couple of pegs.

She finally exited the locker room with her head down, her still-damp hair falling around her shoulders and wetting the back of her coat, and didn't notice him (or, at least, pretended she didn't notice him) as she walked by. "McNally," he called out. She kept walking so he pushed himself off the wall to follow and tried a different tactic. "Andy, please wait."

There was a hint of desperation in his tone that he didn't love but at least it got her attention. Andy came to a full stop and waited a couple of seconds, like she was trying to decide if she really had the energy for the confrontation, before turning around.

When she did he felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. "Hi," he said.

She finally looked up at him and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Hey," she replied evenly, crisp and emotionless. Sam wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not – on one hand she wasn't being openly hostile but on the other she didn't seem exactly thrilled to be talking to him.

"You…" his voice cracked and suddenly it felt like he had sandpaper in his throat, so he broke off and swallowed a couple of times before trying again. "You wanna go on a date with me?" he asked with a grin, flashing his dimples.

She was staring at him with completely dull eyes and, as much as he would never admit it to anyone_, _there really weren't too many measures he wouldn't go to in order to get her to start smiling at him again. It was a tactic that usually worked – Andy would get fired up about something and he'd just grin at her, maybe flick her hair at little, until her expression melted and she wasn't irritated with him anymore.

It didn't seem to be working.

Andy arched an eyebrow, completely unsympathetic to his obvious discomfort and, he realized with a pang of disappointment, seemingly immune to his charm. She looked disappointed in him and even… disenchanted, actually. Like he'd reached a low she hadn't thought he was capable of. "Not really."

Sam pressed his lips together and nodded slowly. "Okay," he said, chuckling a little. "I guess I deserved that."

Andy opened her mouth to speak but closed it when she heard a group of officers coming up behind her, shoes squeaking against the floor. She squeezed against the wall to give them space to get by, politely nodding and forcing a smile at each one, while Sam stayed rooted in his spot and ignored them, his eyes never leaving Andy.

When the officers turned the corner and they were alone again, Andy folded her arms and addressed Sam. "You were an asshole today," she informed him, taking a step closer and lowering her voice.

Sam winced. "Yeah, I know," he admitted, bracing an arm against the wall. "I'm sorry. If it makes a difference, I wasn't actively trying to be an asshole out there."

Andy raised her shoulders and pursed her lips, shaking her head. "So, what? It just came naturally?"

"No, that's not…" he sighed and then tried again. "It came out wrong," he said. "I saw the car start to go and I thought it was going to hit you and I just…" he broke off again, not knowing how to explain what had happened. He had been scared, was what it was, and he didn't deal with that very well.

Andy wasn't letting him off the hook though. "And you, what? Thought it was a good idea to yell at me in front of two of my superior officers? Make me look like an idiot?"

"Andy," he said softly, his brow furrowing. "No, of course not."

"Well, that's what you did."

"Neither of them think that you're an idiot," he tried to assure her, reaching out for her arm. He tugged her closer, until she was in the little nook created by his arm and the wall. "They both know that I'm the idiot… Oliver told me so himself, so did Noelle just a couple of minutes ago." She still didn't look convinced. "Look, I promise, you want me to go talk to them or something? Clear everything up?"

"What? God, no!" she exclaimed, looking at him like he just suggested they go kick puppies. "And make them think I need my," she waved her hands in his general direction, "You, to make sure all the big kids like me? No, no way. No, thank you."

He caught her flailing hands in his and pulled her to him. "McNally, come here," he said, holding her until she calmed down, mostly just because he needed to touch her. When he felt like she wasn't going to hit him, he let go of her hands and pushed her hair back off of her face. He bent his knees slightly so that he was right in her eye line. "I am _very_ sorry."

Her hands settled at his waist, bunching the material of his jacket in her fists. She looked at him for a second, her eyes warming just the slightest bit, before letting out a huff and glancing up at the ceiling. "We're going to like, actually need to talk about how we act at work," she told him. "We probably should have a long time ago, before I even put in for the transfer, but I didn't realize…" she trailed off, shaking her head, and then regrouped. "I don't want relationship stuff to affect how we do our jobs and I don't want us to be pissed at each other all the time. We need to come to some sort of understanding about how this is going to work."

"I agree," Sam assured her. He squinted down and asked, "Can we talk about it later, though? At home?"

She pursed her lips and nodded in agreement. Then she studied his face intently for a moment, worrying her bottom lip, before asking, "Did you mean it? Last night… did you mean it?"

Up until that point he had been fairly certain that she knew him well enough to realize that he had been full of crap the night before. He opened his mouth, wanting to reassure her, but he couldn't seem to find the words.

The afternoon shift was starting to filter towards parade and there many curious glances were being directed their way. At that very moment, Sam really couldn't have cared less, but Andy kept shuffling around uncomfortably and letting her hair fall in front of her face whenever someone walked by.

"Come on," he said, leading her down the hallway in the opposite direction of the parade room and around the corner. When he felt like they were hidden away enough, he gently pushed her back against the wall and took her face in his hands. "No," he said firmly. "I did not mean it. You know that."

She blinked like she was trying to decide if she believed him and then nodded slightly under his palms. Relief washed through him and Sam let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when he felt the movement.

"I know," she said quietly. "Still sucked to hear though."

She was pouting, which made Sam's heart ache a little, and he couldn't decide if the better course of action would be to lean down and nibble at her bottom lip until she opened her mouth and let him kiss her or actually tell her how he felt.

He wet his lips and leaned in just a fraction of an inch when she raised an eyebrow and put a hand against his chest, stopping him. Oliver's words came rushing back to him.

"_Tell her how important she is to you and then beg for forgiveness."_

He didn't move away but he did brace one hand above her shoulder and let the other fall to the curve of her waist. "Andy, next to Lindsey… you are…" he dropped his gaze and his thumb traced the stitching on her coat. It was one thing to _want_ to tell her and a whole different thing to actually do it. He cleared his throat and met her eye. "You _matter_ to me, okay? Your opinions _matter_ to me. Next to Lindsey, you are the most important person in my life and I am sorry that I made you feel any differently. I..."

He loved her. He realized in that moment, clear as day, that he loved her. He'd thought it before, several times actually, but right then, he knew it.

He wasn't about to tell her though, not tucked away in the corner of some hallway at the station and not when she might think he was just saying it so she'd forgive him.

She blinked up at him with her big brown eyes, waiting for him to continue.

"I want you to tell me what you think," he finished. "Always. Even when I don't want to hear it."

She smiled and rolled her shoulders back, standing up straighter. "Yeah?"

"Yes."

Her eyes were starting to shimmer again. "You're probably going to regret saying that you know," she warned him.

Sam grinned down at her. "Probably."

She hooked her fingers through his belt loops and pulled until he was right up against her. "Sorry I ditched you this morning."

"Ah, so that was on purpose," Sam said, wrapping his hand around to the nape of her neck.

Andy pulled her lip between her teeth and shrugged. "Maybe. Forgive me?"

Instead of answering, Sam tugged on her hair until she tilted her face up. He leaned in, bumping his nose against hers, and then flicked his eyes up in a silent request. She knew what he was asking and parted her lips in an invitation, standing up on her toes to shorten the distance between them. He pecked at the corner of her mouth first, light and gentle, grinning against her, until she let out an irritated whine. The last thing he wanted to do was piss her off again, so he took the hint and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her properly. He wasn't trying for anything, really, they were still at work, but he missed her and she didn't protest when he swept his tongue over her lip, seeking entrance.

The kiss seemed to deepen and intensify on it's own and before he knew it he had her back flush against the wall with his knee in between her legs and his hips pressing involuntarily against hers.

She let out a whimper and he broke away, panting. "McNally..." he sucked in a deep breath of air and let his forehead drop against hers. "We, um…" he closed his eyes and swallowed. "We should probably go."

"Yeah," Andy nodded, her chest still heaving slightly, "Yeah, we should." He felt her warm hand against his face and the soft pad of her thumb brushed over his cheekbone until he opened his eyes. "You ready?"

Sam nodded, taking one of her hands in his. "You gonna let me drive you home?"

Andy shrugged. "Only because the truck has heated seats."

"Oh, is that the only reason?" he teased.

She grinned and then shook her head, "No."

He was about to lean in and kiss her again but she laughed and pushed him away. "_Sam," _she said, tugging on his arm, "Come on, we need to go. At this point Lindsey's probably going to beat us home."

"Someone else I need to apologize too," Sam grumbled as she pulled him out to the lot.

Andy grinned with mock sympathy as she hoisted herself up into the truck. "It hasn't been a great couple of days for you, has it?"

Sam just smirked and shut her door before rounding to the driver's side. "I actually wanted to ask you about that," he said, starting the ignition. "I'm gonna let Lindsey go to that movie tonight and I didn't know if you maybe wanted to go out to dinner or something."

Andy pulled her seatbelt across her chest. "Tonight?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, checking his watch. "I think the movie starts at seven. Zoe Shaw's gonna pick her up at six fifteen."

Andy thought about it and wrinkled her nose. "Are you going to be upset if I say no? Not to you," she rushed to clarify, "Just to going out?" "

Sam chuckled and shook his head. "No," he said, lacing his fingers with hers and settling their hands on top of the console.

"Good," Andy sighed and sank back into her seat. "I slept like crap last night and all I want to do is pull on some sweats and crash in front of the TV."

It shouldn't have made him happy that she had trouble sleeping too, but it did. "That's all you want to do, huh?" he asked, checking in the rearview mirror before glancing over at her and quirking an eyebrow.

"Well," Andy drawled, a slow, knowing grin spreading across her face. "Not _all _I want to do …" she said. "If Lindsey goes to a movie we'll have the entire house to ourselves."

"What are we going to do with ourselves?" Sam asked innocently.

Andy's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Oh, I'm sure we can think of something."

Sam grinned over at her and then turned his attention back to the street in front of him. "How'd the rest of your day go?"

"It was fine. One traffic accident after another." She shrugged and then off-handedly added, "I think you actually helped me out with Noelle, though."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Andy chewed her bottom lip for a moment, like she wished she hadn't brought it up. "Okay," she said finally, "I'm gonna tell you this and you're not going to get upset about it, okay?"

Sam rolled his eyes, wondering what in the world she was getting ready to say. "Just tell me," he said, not promising anything.

"Okay, well…" she hesitated for a couple of seconds but then forged ahead. "The first thing that Noelle said to me when we got in the cruiser was not to expect special treatment because I was sleeping with a superior officer."

"Really?" Sam asked, his eyebrows shooting up. He wasn't surprised, exactly. Noelle could be a hardass and had very little patience or respect for anyone, especially women, who tried to get ahead by any means other than good, solid police work. However, if Oliver was correct, and he usually was, she and Frank Best had started something up. It seemed a little hypocritical.

"You said you weren't going to get upset, remember?"

"I never actually said that," he reminded her.

"Anyway," Andy continued. "I think she was just trying to feel me out which I was expecting but then after your little... I don't know, outburst… she was a lot nicer to me. I guess she felt bad for me for something." She glanced over at him and must have read something in is expression. "I'm not telling you that to make you feel bad, I promise, I'm totally over it. I'm just… telling you how my day went, that's all."

Sam nodded slowly and then squeezed her hand. "Okay," he said simply.

Andy smiled over at him and then launched into a story about a driver at one of the accidents they'd been called to. "He wasn't wearing _pants_, Sam, all he had on was a pair of crusty old underwear," she complained, half whining and half laughing. "Who doesn't put on pants when they leave their house?"

Sam just laughed and shook his head, glad that McNally was back.

Lindsey's book bag was in the foyer when they got home so Sam told Andy to get comfortable and then he made his way up the stairs and knocked on her door. "Lindsey?"

"Yeah?" was her muffled reply.

"Can I come in?"

"Whatever." Sam pushed the door open and stepped inside. Lindsey was seated at her desk and she looked up at him skeptically, raising an eyebrow. "Don't worry," she said, tapping her pencil against her notebook. "I didn't talk to any boys today."

Sam sighed and dropped down to the edge of her bed, planting his hands on his knees. "Listen, Lindsey," he started. "I may not have been completely fair last night." She stared at him blankly so he continued, apologizing for what felt like the eighteenth time that day. "I'm sorry that I jumped to conclusions and that I didn't listen to you about the movie tonight."

"Okay," she said, her expression softening the slightest bit.

"I know that you probably think I have everything figured out…"

"I don't think that," she interrupted him.

Sam blinked. "What?"

"I don't think you have everything figured out," she clarified bluntly.

He could have guessed that Lindsey was going to be tougher to crack than Andy. "Okay," he said, chuckling, "Well, that's good, because I don't. This whole… you growing up thing and boys and dating…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "I'm not a hundred percent okay with it."

"Yeah, I_ know, _Uncle Sam," she replied, flipping through the pages of a textbook to make it clear that she had better things to be doing with her time. "You made that clear last night."

"Lindsey," he leaned over and gently took the book from her, closing it and tossing it on the bed. "Look at me please." She scowled and let out a huff but then turned in her chair so that she was facing him. "I'm going to be honest with you for a minute here, okay? Can I talk to you like an adult?"

Lindsey finally met his gaze and nodded once. "Yeah."

"I know that it probably seems like I'm just trying to ruin all of your fun all of the time, but I want you to understand where I coming from."

"You mean about what happened to mom?" she asked, looking down at her hands.

Sam covered both of her small hands with one of his. "Yeah, what happened to your mom," he said, "And stuff I see at work. And you know, I don't want that kind of stuff to scare you but it's hard for me to separate that from you."

"I know," Lindsey whispered.

"But I want to," Sam told her earnestly. Her eyes flew up to meet his and he nodded. "I trust you, Lindsey, and I want you to have fun with your friends. In groups," he clarified, grinning and making her laugh. "Big groups, for right now at least. Until you're like… I don't know, forty. Then we can talk about dating."

"So, does that mean…" she trailed off hopefully.

"I'm going to let you go tonight," he said.

Her face brightened for a second but then she narrowed her eyes like she didn't quite believe him. "Really?"

"Really," he confirmed. Before she could get too excited he held up a hand. "I have some rules though for tonight and for…" he waved his hand around, rolling his eyes. "The future."

"Anything," she promised, sweeping her hands out.

"First of all," he said, holding up a finger, "No matter how dumb you think it is, I need to know all of the names of the kids that will be there."

Lindsey nodded along, looking like she was ready to agree to just about anything. "Okay."

"Second, tonight you are going to take my phone and you are going to call Andy as soon as Mrs. Shaw picks you up after the movie's over, got it?"

"Can I just text you instead?"

Sam shook his head. "No, I want to hear your voice. And tomorrow you and I are gonna go out and get you your own phone.

Lindsey grinned. "My own phone?"

"Not a cool one," Sam told her. "No Angry Birds or whatever, just a phone that you can call and text on, okay?"

Lindsey nodded, still grinning broadly. "Okay, yeah, that's fine. Anything else?"

"There's a six week self defense class that starts up in a couple of weeks at the station." He pointed at her. "You're going to take it. Hannah Shaw's taking it too, so you won't be alone."

"I can do that," Lindsey declared. "Is that it?"

"That's it," Sam said. "For now, at least. Until I think of something else."

Lindsey waited half a second before launching herself at him. "Thank you!" she said, wrapping her skinny arms around his neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"You're welcome, kid," he said, laughing and patting her back.

Andy helped Lindsey pick out something to wear and at six fifteen on the dot Lindsey was bounding out to Zoe Shaw's SUV, waving back to Andy and Sam. She got halfway down the stairs and then turned on her heel and ran back up. "I need some cash," she said, holding out her hand. Her eyes were shining and her nose and cheeks were already starting to turn pink from the cold night air.

Sam grumbled and reached for his wallet, pulling out a couple of bills. He was about to hand it over when Andy elbowed him in the ribs. "That's not enough for candy."

Sam rolled his eyes and pulled out another five. Lindsey plucked the bills from his hand with a grin. "Thank you!" she said brightly, running to the car with her scarf flying out behind her.

"Well," Sam muttered to Andy, leaning against the doorframe, "It's a good thing we're not going to dinner 'cause she just cleaned me out."

Andy just patted his shoulder sympathetically. They waited until the taillights disappeared and then slipped back into the house.

"So," Sam said, shutting the door, "What're we gonna do?"

She was in his arms and already yanking his shirt over his head when she laughed and told him, "I think the better question is _where _are we gonna do it?"


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: This is the next to last chapter (of the main story - there will be an epilogue) and I really can't believe how far its come. I definitely would not have made it without the support from you guys... thank you so much for your reviews and feedback! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue. **

* * *

><p>"You're like, oddly proficient at this."<p>

The temperature was starting to drop and it was nearing dusk; the colors of the day were muted as darkness began to set in. Andy stood on the sidewalk with her mittened hands wrapped around a warm mug of hot chocolate, watching Sam balance on the top step of a ladder to reach the awning over his porch.

"Funny, you said the same thing last night," Sam replied, smirking down at her. Andy had just taken a sip so she swallowed the drink in her mouth and returned the gesture with a smirk of her own. "You keep making comments like that," he said, turning away from her, "And I'm gonna start taking it personally, McNally."

She quirked an eyebrow. "You're gonna take it personally that I find it strange that you're good at putting up Christmas lights?"

"Why is it strange?" Sam asked, the hem of his jacket riding up as he stretched out to his right.

Andy immediately noticed and grinned into her mug as she ogled the way the lean muscles of his abdomen shifted and flexed beneath his bared skin.

"McNally?" Sam's voice broke through her reverie and she glanced up to find him watching her, his eyes dancing with amusement and his lips twitching with a grin. She knew that he must have caught her staring but instead of busting her on it he just repeated himself, sounding like he was fighting a laugh, "Why is it strange?"

Andy shrugged, trying not to act flustered. It wasn't like she had never caught him staring at her before and when she did he was totally unrepentant, usually just kept right on staring. "It just seems like something you'd be too cool for, that's all."

"Shows how much you know," he scoffed, punching the staple gun into the edge of the awning. "I've been hanging Christmas lights since before Lindsey could talk. Probably since you were wearing those day of the week underwear."

"Oh, my mistake," Andy granted, rolling her eyes. She watched him quietly for another moment, shuffling back and forth on her feel an in attempt to stay warm, and then asked, "Is it the power tools? Is that what does it for you?"

"A staple gun is hardly a power tool," Sam told her, stepping down off the ladder so he could move it to the side. He held the aforementioned stapler out to her. "You want to give it a go?"

"Nope, I'm good here," she said, holding up her mug.

"Suit yourself," he replied, climbing back up. "Listen, speaking of Lindsey… are you planning on getting her something for Christmas?"

"Already got her present," Andy boasted, proud of herself. "Yours, too."

Sam looked down at her, confusion lining his forehead. "When have you had time to go shopping?"

"It's called the _internet_ Sam," she replied, teasing. "You should try it some time, you'd like it. No lines, no waiting, no human interaction. Delivers right to your front door like Chinese food. I can show you if you want…"

"I know how to use the internet, McNally," he grumbled, scowling.

"Uh huh, okay." Andy grinned, not fully believing him. She took a sip of her hot chocolate and then asked. "Have you gotten Lindsey's present yet?"

Sam sniffed and ran the back of his hand under his nose. "Not yet."

It was a fairly typical Sam answer – vague but loaded. Like there was something he couldn't, or wouldn't, bring himself to confess. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on the day) for him, Andy was getting pretty good at interpreting the subtext. "Don't know what to get her?"

"Something like that," he admitted. His easy tone was forced and suddenly he was punching the staple gun with a little more strength. Vague but loaded, again. "It just seems more important this year, you know? To get her something she'll like."

"Yeah, I know," she replied softly, nodding even though he wasn't looking at her. She waited for a stretch to see if he was going to say anything else and when he didn't she hesitantly offered, "Well, I can help you figure something out."

"Alright," he accepted with a nod, completely casual and noncommittal again. Whatever moment they were just having was obviously over. "If you want."

"Yeah, sure," Andy replied. Then, nosily, she pried, "Have you gotten my present yet?"

"Like I'd tell you that," he said, snorting lightly. "You'd probably snoop all over the damn house trying to find it."

"Would not," she claimed, clicking her tongue behind her teeth.

"Would too. I bet your dad had to lock your presents away," Sam mused.

It was Andy's turn to snort. "My dad used to pick up my presents along a six pack at the convenience store after he worked the Christmas day shift," she said, chuckling gently to soften the revelation. "I've got a whole box of dinky Toronto collectibles and like, combo flashlight-radios sitting somewhere."

Sam blinked down at her, like for a moment he had forgotten that her childhood hadn't exactly been rosy. "That… sucks," he eventually muttered.

Andy just shrugged. Growing up she'd always been envious of her friends who had normal Christmases with their normal families, but as she got older she'd realized that everyone had their own problems and she'd moved on. She wasn't bitter. "It was what it was. He'd come home, we'd open presents and then we'd camp out on the couch and watch _The Christmas Story. _It was our own little tradition."

Sam was quiet again, purposefully not looking at her, and Andy guessed that something she'd said had struck a nerve. He was just finishing up the awning, stapling the last little bit of the string of lights in place, so she changed the subject. "How are you gonna get the roof?"

"Uh, well…" Sam leaned back, squinting up at the second story and considering her question. "I think I'm just going to climb up there."

"You _think_?" Andy repeated dubiously, not totally on board with the idea of him scaling the side of the house. "I thought you said you've done this before?"

"I've hung lights before," he corrected her, stepping down the rungs of the ladder until he was on the ground again. "In St. Catherine's. Lindsey wanted 'em and Sarah was terrified of heights so…" he broke off, shrugging.

"Oh." Andy really wasn't sure what to say to that, a whole lifetime of traditions that just… weren't the same anymore.

"Yeah," he said, flicking his eyes over to meet hers. There was something in his look, like he knew what she was thinking, but before it could get too meaningful he glanced away. "And I usually help Oliver with his. Guy'd probably break his neck if he tried to do it on his own."

"Ah, well," Andy muttered distractedly. "That's nice of you."

He didn't respond as he moved the ladder to the corner of the house and effortlessly boosted himself up on to the awning. From there he could easily reach the roof, but it was slanted and he was wearing these ridiculous old-man slippers that she teased him about all the time but he refused to take off. One false move and he would go sliding right off.

"Sam," she called up to him nervously, worrying her bottom lip as she tried to gauge the distance between him and the ground. If he fell he would break a leg, no doubt about it. "I'm not so sure about this…"

"It's fine Andy," he assured her, testing his footing. He stood up, knees bent slightly to keep his balance, and looked back at her. "But you know what?"

"What?"

"I'm gonna need you to come a little closer." Andy did what he asked, taking a step towards the house. Sam watched her, crooking his fingers in direction. "Little closer, little bit more… no wait." He held his hand up. "Back up. There. That's good."

"It's not like I'm gonna be able to catch you if you fall you know," she huffed with exasperation. "You'll crush both of us."

"Yeah, I know," he said, winking down at her. "It's just that I can see straight down your shirt when you're standing there."

Andy dropped her jaw and made a noise like she was offended, but in the end she just laughed and stayed where she was while he finished up the lights. Her view wasn't all that bad either.

They only got to work together a couple of times a week; Andy picked up a hodge podge of shifts when she transferred divisions and was working some mornings and some afternoons. Eventually they had their _this is how we're going to behave at work _conversation, which mostly consisted of coming up with a loose definition of what "being professional" meant and agreeing not to draw attention to themselves one way or another, but overall it seemed to be working.

Andy rode with Oliver one afternoon, which was odd since he and Sam usually had the same schedule. When she'd asked him about it, he'd told her he had to switch shifts so he could go to Isabella's Christmas party at school.

"Did you go as Santa?" she asked, teasing at first. When she saw the look on his face she burst out laughing. "Oh my gosh, you did, didn't you?"

"Laugh now," he told her, grumbling good-naturedly. "We'll see who gets a lump of coal in their stocking."

"No, no, I can see it," she continued, heedless of his warning, "Cheeks like roses, nose like a cherry…"

Oliver grinned. "Oh yeah? Little round belly like a bowlful of jelly." When she raised an eyebrow he told her, "I read that poem to my girls every Christmas Eve."

Andy laughed again, shaking her head. "Well I wasn't going to go there."

They settled into a comfortable silence, driving up and down the streets on their beat. The radio was quiet, for once. "The calm before the storm," Oliver had told her earlier. "Don't jinx it."

They grabbed dinner-to-go from a hot dog stand and as they were walking back to the cruiser passed a by Christmas tree display in the window of a second hand store, homemade paper snowflakes plastered against the glass. "Hey," Andy said, pulling open her door, "What do your kids normally get you for Christmas?"

Oliver waited until they were buckled in to answer. "Sweaters mostly, couple of button ups. Maybe a pair of jeans. I think Zoe uses Christmas to update my wardrobe every year, her incredibly subtle way of telling me that she hates my clothes," he said fondly, holding his hotdog out in front of Andy until she took it from him. When she did, he checked the rearview mirror and then maneuvered them back out onto the street. "Last year Hannah got me one of those coffee mugs with the moustache on it." He glanced over at her and took his hotdog back, steering with one hand. "Why?"

"Just trying to help Lindsey think of what to get for Sam," she said, watching in awe as Oliver inhaled the hotdog in three big bites and then licked his fingers clean. "He's not the easiest guy in the world to shop for."

Oliver balled up the foil wrapper and dropped it into the well on the driver's side door. "Let me guess," he said. "He doesn't want anything, he's got everything he needs and she doesn't have to get him anything but anything she does get him will be fine."

"Yeah, pretty much," Andy replied, her mouth full. She finished chewing, swallowed, and then continued, "The worst part is that I think he actually means it."

"He does mean it," Oliver claimed, reaching for his soda. "Sammy's a simple guy."

Andy knew what he was saying – it wasn't an insult to Sam, just a statement of fact. "Yeah," she acknowledged, tilting her head from side to side, "But she doesn't want to just not get him something, even if that's what he wants. And, you know, it's just… different this year. For them. It's different."

She didn't elaborate because she knew Oliver understood.

"Yeah," he replied quietly, nodding contemplatively. "Let me think about it and I'll get back to you."

It was quiet again for another stretch, an awkward tension hanging between them. A dull ache settled in Andy's stomach – a hollow, helpless feeling that she wondered if Oliver got too whenever he let himself really think about Sam and Lindsey and what they must be going through.

Oliver hesitantly broke the silence. "Hey, uh, how's he doing?"

Andy sighed and rubbed her forehead. "He's… " she wasn't really sure, honestly. On the surface everything was fine, but she knew that wasn't what Oliver was asking about. "I mean, I think he's doing okay but he's just quiet, mostly. He doesn't really ever talk about her, not to me at least."

"He doesn't talk about her to _anyone_," Oliver said softly, reassuringly. "It's not just you."

Andy gave him a small half smile. "I think he's worried about Christmas," she said. It actually felt good to talk to someone about it, someone that knew what was going on and cared as much about Sam as she did.

Oliver nodded. "I'm sure he is."

"It's their first one since Sarah and I know it's gotta be tough." Suddenly she wanted to tell Oliver everything that was going on. Everything that she'd been keeping track of because she couldn't tell anyone else. "Part of me was expecting him to just shut down and ignore Christmas but he's like, doing the complete opposite. He keeps thinking of all these things that he needs to do and then he has to do them right that very instant… like the other day he hung Christmas lights all by himself and then last night at like eleven he drove to the store because he had to get candy canes for the tree. I don't know…" Andy said, chewing on her lip as she thought about it. "It's like he's worried that if something's missing then Lindsey will be reminded of what's _really _missing." She had been working it out in her head as she rambled on and when the realization came to her she paused, that awful hollow feeling sinking in her stomach even more. "Yeah, I mean… I guess that's what it is. I don't even know if he knows that that's what he's doing but that's definitely…" she swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat. "That's definitely what he's doing."

Oliver was quiet, nodding along.

"And he's not sleeping, he wakes up during the middle of the night all the time." It came out before she could wonder if it was awkward to admit that she was aware of Sam's sleeping patterns and she felt a faint blush color her cheeks when Oliver raised his eyebrows. _Crap_, she had just assumed that Oliver _knew_ about them but maybe she was wrong. "I mean…"

Oliver looked over at her and rolled his eyes, not unkindly. "It's fine McNally. So… he's not sleeping…" he prompted her back to the previous thread of conversation, circling his hand.

He wasn't sleeping. She had woken up several times during the last few weeks to find him awake and staring at the ceiling, one hand tucked behind his head and the other absently running up and down the line of his chest.

The first couple of times she had tried to ask him if he was okay, but he'd just blinked over at her and assured her he was fine before either telling her to go back to sleep or grinning and waggling his eyebrows, drawing her over to him.

Either way – she never got an answer out of him, so she'd stopped asking. Instead, she just scooted over to curl against him and throw an arm over his chest, not saying a word. Most of the time she would just feel him start to trail his fingers over her, either down to the dip in her back or across her arm, but a couple of times he'd rolled her beneath him and stared down at her with this absolutely intense, haunting look before slipping a hand between them and leaning down to kiss her.

"Yeah," Andy said, almost croaking the word out. She swallowed again. "I mean no, he's not sleeping. And it's just… On one hand he acts like he's got everything under control but on the other hand…" she broke off, considering her words. "I guess I'm kind of waiting for that moment when he doesn't have everything under control. Does that make sense?"

She wasn't sure when that moment was going to be or what was going to cause it – when she'd gotten shot she'd been truly worried that he was going to lose it, which was why she'd tried to downplay the whole thing, but he'd called her out on it and had pretty much been a champ throughout the entire situation – but she felt like there was this underlying tension in Sam that was just going to snap at some point.

Oliver nodded. "It makes sense."

"I don't know. I think I'm just worried because I don't know what's going on in his head," she admitted. "I can usually get Lindsey to talk to me but not him, not about this."

"Well, Sammy's not much of a talker," Oliver shrugged. "If he's gonna open up it's going to be in his own timing. You can't force it."

Andy picked at the cuff of her jacket. "Yeah, I know. It's just frustrating. I just want to help… I just, you know, want him to _let_ me help."

"I get it," Oliver told her. He was quiet for a moment, thinking. "Andy, I want you to know something." It was unusual that he called her by her first name and his tone was way more serious than she normally heard from him. "Zoe and I were talking about it last night – and she's always worried about Sam, even before everything with Sarah and Lindsey, she thought he was going to be alone forever and that he was going to go so deep undercover that'd we'd never see him again – but anyway, we were talking about it and uh… " he glanced over at her and flashed a quick, cautious smile, "Well, we decided that we're glad he's got you."

Andy let out a surprised laugh, embarrassed but a little pleased. "I'm not really sure I do all that much…"

"Trust me," Oliver interrupted her, holding up a hand, "I've been friends with Sammy for fifteen years. You do a lot. Just being there, by his side, it's… it's a lot, Andy. More than he'll probably ever tell you, because God knows he'd have trouble stringing _that _sentence together."

It was probably very high school, but getting the seal of approval from Sam's best friend, and someone she respected very much, did funny things to Andy's heart. "Thanks Oliver," she said, smiling.

"Plus, and this is just from me, the less time my wife spends worrying about, and therefore thinking about, Sam Swarek, the better."

Andy laughed again. "Aw, Ollie, you know Zoe only has eyes for you."

"Yeah, well… I've seen the way that Swarek charm works on the ladies." Andy's eyebrows shot up and when Oliver realized what he'd said he coughed and added, "Not recently, obviously."

"Uh huh…" Andy murmured, smiling.

They lapsed into silence again, comfortable this time, Oliver concentrating on the road in front of them and Andy watching the buildings that flew by, keeping her eye out for anything that looked suspicious.

"Books on tape," Oliver said out of nowhere.

Andy turned to him, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Books on tape?" she repeated.

"For Christmas, for Sam. I know it sounds strange," he acknowledged. "But I think he'd like a book on tape."

"And why do you think that?" Andy asked skeptically.

"Whenever Sam rides by himself or when he goes undercover, he always listens to books on tape," Oliver told her. "_Moby Dick _was the last one. It's the weirdest thing."

That was certainly… new.

"Huh," Andy said, chewing on the inside of her cheek, "I'll uh… I'll keep that in mind."

Oliver nodded once. "You do that, rookie."

A few days later Andy found herself plopped in front of a computer for the majority of the day, searching through traffic camera photos for one Jerry's cases. She was seriously considering the possibility of having to hold her eyelids open with her fingers when she felt a warm hand on her back.

She jerked around, startled, to find Sam standing behind her. "Hey," she greeted, stretching her arms over her head with a yawn. "I thought you were on patrol with Traci?"

"Yeah, I was," he said quietly. He hitched his thumb behind his shoulder and then asked, "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Yes, please… anything to get away from this computer," she said, standing up from the desk and following him out of the bullpen. "I've been looking at grainy black and white pictures all day, I think my eyes are going to be totally shot by the end of shift. Hey, do you want some coff… Ummph."

Sam pulled her into a viewing room and his thumb hit the lock as he pushed her back against the door, his lips descending on hers before she even had time to think about it.

It took Andy a second to respond – illicit making out around the barn was definitely not something that occurred regularly, or at all. They had a fairly general hands off policy that they had both been abiding by, save for one minor incident a couple of mornings earlier.

They were sitting by one another during parade – Sam had pushed Andy's chair out with his toe and Andy had slid a cup of coffee across the table to him – when Andy remembered the little stunt that Sam pulled at the Penny after her last day at twenty seven. She glanced around, making sure they were decently hidden from view, and then slipped her hand onto Sam's leg just above his knee, rounding her fingers to the inside of his thigh. His elbows were planted on the table and he didn't react, at least not at first, so she slid her hand higher, brushing her thumb lightly over the material of his uniform. His breath hitched on the inhale then, like he was just waiting to see what she was going to do, but she paused and left her hand where it was for a moment.

Sam cut his eyes over to her but she kept her gaze straight ahead, pretending to be listening to whatever Jerry was going on about. It wasn't until Jerry asked Sam a question that she slid her hand _all the way _up, brazenly cupping him through his pants before removing her hand completely. He choked out an answer, probably more out of surprise than anything, and when everyone turned their attention back to Jerry he looked over at her, eyebrow raised.

"You alright there, Swarek?" She asked innocently, grinning broadly and handing him her water bottle. She couldn't tell if the smirk he was wearing was from amusement or pride. "Need some water?"

So, the hands off policy was more of a suggestion than an actual rule, but that didn't stop Andy from whining when Sam backed her against the door. "Sa_am, _someone's gonna notice…" she protested weakly, laughing as she half-heartedly pushed against his chest. He was insistent though, his hands cupping her face and his mouth sloppy and demanding against hers, kissing her thoroughly. Eventually she relaxed back against the door and threaded her fingers through the hair at the base of his skull, pulling him closer to her.

He kissed her like that for a couple of minutes, deep and possessive but not hurried, like he needed to reacquaint himself with the inside of her mouth and the column of her neck. Andy wasn't quite sure what was going on – his hands, for the most part, stayed at her face or at the curve of her waist so it wasn't like he was feeling her up or angling for anything more, but his whole body was pressed flush against hers, like he couldn't get close enough.

She didn't entirely mind the midday affection (she didn't mind much, actually, when it came to him), mostly just protested for show, and when he finally did draw back she let out an unhappy sigh and dropped her head against his shoulder. "So," she breathed, smiling a little and smoothing her hand over the solid muscles of his chest. "When you ask if we can talk you really mean make out in interview one. Duly noted." She raised her head and looked up, expecting him to be grinning down at her like he'd won some sort of bet.

The expression that she saw, however, was way too serious and troubled and immediately her brow furrowed with concern. It was one of those looks he got late at night, when his brown eyes went black and intense. "Hey," she said quickly, getting her hands on the sides of his face and pushing back so she could see him. "Everything okay?"

Sam blinked and the intensity was gone, replaced by a vacant stare. "Yeah," he said, his voice hoarse. He grinned quickly and cleared his throat, repeating, "Yeah, everything's fine."

Andy eyed him warily, wondering for half a second if she had imagined the look he had given her. She couldn't have though, because behind his carefully schooled blank expression his eyes were still stormy and dark.

He smiled again, breaking eye contact and twirling the ends of her ponytail between his fingers. "Just wanted to see you, that's all."

"Okay," she replied hesitantly. He hadn't stepped back at all and was still right up against her – she could feel his warm breath on her forehead. "Hey, I um…" she trailed her hands up the back of his arms and slipped underneath the short sleeves of his shirt, scratching her fingernails lightly over his biceps and shoulders, "I thought of what you could get Lindsey for Christmas."

"Oh yeah?" He was quiet, just stroking through her hair with one hand while the other circled her waist and settled at her back.

"Yeah," she said, tilting chin up so she could look at him. "I've been looking at the pictures all morning and it reminded me of how much Lindsey likes to look at her photo albums _and_ she mentioned this photography class that she wants to take next year, so… I was thinking she might like a camera."

She watched his throat work as he swallowed. "A camera?"

"Yeah, not one of those dinky little point and shoot things, but like a good one for a beginner," she said. "I can ask Dov what kind he'd get."

His expression went grave again, the crease between his eyes deepening. "Um, yeah," he muttered, closing his eyes and pressing the heel of his palm against his forehead. He waited a second and then opened his eyes. Andy couldn't read his expression and he was refusing to look at her, gazing past her to a spot on the wall. "That's a good idea. I've uh…" he dropped his hands suddenly and took a step back, away from her touch. "I've got to get back out there."

Andy stared at him, totally confused by the way he was acting and more than a little worried. "Sam…" she said, her mouth gaping open. "Are you sure everything's okay?"

"Positive," he replied crisply, twisting the doorknob and hastily making his way out of the room. "I'll see you after shift." The door closed behind him, leaving Andy alone.

Frozen in her spot, she blinked and looked at the door, wondering what in the world that had been about.

She found out what it had been about later that afternoon in the locker room.

"Hey," Traci said, looking up from the bench when Andy walked in. "Have you seen Swarek today?"

Andy untucked her uniform shirt and started working the row of buttons down the front. "Yeah," she answered, scowling down when she accidently popped a button that had been hanging on by a loose thread for weeks. "I saw him earlier. He was acting super weird though, did something happen?"

Traci nodded. "Yeah, Andy…" she hesitated, glancing around. There were two women changing a few lockers down from them, officers that Andy didn't know yet, so Traci turned towards Andy and lowered her voice. "This morning we got called to check on a woman who didn't show up for some important work presentation."

Andy stopped pulling off her uniform and looked up at Traci, dread already gnawing at her stomach. She guessed immediately where the story was going – of all the rookies, Traci was the only one that really knew about the situation with Sam's sister. Andy figured that Jerry had filled her in at some point. She cleared her throat and forced herself to ask, "And?"

Traci pursed her lips and shook her head. "It was bad, Andy," she said quietly, obviously affected by what she had seen. She shot a glance back at the women and then continued, her voice cracking with emotion on the first word, "She um, she slit her wrists, Sam found her in the bathtub… " She broke off and blinked rapidly, ducking her head. Andy could see her eyes get red and teary, but she took a couple of deep breaths and finished. "Yeah, it was bad."

Andy gulped. She wanted to go right then and find Sam and get her arms around him in the tightest hug she could manage, but something was stopping her. Instead, she asked, "How was he at the scene?"

"Stoic, as always. Freakishly calm actually, followed procedure to the letter," Traci answered.

Complete emotional disassociation. That was what he did when he knew he was on the verge of losing it – Andy had only seen it once, but she knew that's what he did. He'd be so calm and controlled that it was almost eerie.

"Andy… the woman was a mom, three kids," Traci told her. "There were Christmas presents already under the tree."

Andy let out a sharp breath. "Jesus, Trace, are you okay?"

"Yeah," Traci nodded, weakly at first but then with more confidence, "Yeah, I'm going to be fine. I mean, it hit close to home for a lot of us but…" she trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

Andy knew what she was trying to say without saying. "Yeah, I know."

"Anyway, I just thought I should tell you," Traci told her, stuffing the last of her things into her bag. "I knew he probably wouldn't."

He hadn't told her, but he had come to find her. In the midst of it all, he'd sought her out. That had to mean _something. _

"Thank you," Andy said sincerely, reaching out for her friend. The two women hugged for a moment and then Traci sighed and pulled back.

"I've got to go," she said, hauling her bag over her shoulder. "I've got to pick Leo up from daycare."

Andy nodded. "See you tomorrow."

"Bye," Traci said, exiting the locker room.

Andy dropped down to the bench and let her head fall into her hands. She took a couple of deep breaths and then continued getting undressed, pulling off her boots first and then unbuttoning and unzipping her pants. As she changed her clothes she tried to imagine what was going on in Sam's head; she wanted, more than anything really, for him to talk to her but at the same time the idea of it scared her – the actual weight and responsibility of a person's grief was a tremendously frightening thing.

Sam was waiting for her outside the locker room when she finally got it together enough to go home. "Hey," he said, smiling as he took her bag from her and reached for her hand.

Calm and cool, like nothing was different. When Andy swallowed her throat felt like sandpaper. "Hey," she replied cautiously, letting him lead her out to the lot. "How uh, how was your day?" She tried to sound casual, like she didn't know.

He looked down at her, his eyes narrowing quickly in suspicion, but she just gave him what she hope was an easy smile. "It was fine," he answered, nothing giving her anything. "Yours?"

Andy shrugged and then looped her arm through his when the cold blast of air hit them. "Boring, mostly," she said conversationally. "I found the car that Jerry was looking for so you know, that was good."

Sam smiled and opened her door for her, waiting until she was settled to slam it shut. They made small talk on the way home – nothing important or deep, just their normal bickering over what radio station to listen to until Sam gave in and Andy won out, as usual. She was slowly but surely replacing all of his presets with her own.

If Traci hadn't said anything Andy wouldn't have known anything was different. She briefly considered the option that he was totally fine and completely unaffected by the call that morning. It wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility – he was, as he'd informed her once, a big boy. However, even if that was the case, and she had trouble believing it was, she still wanted to hear it from him. Wanted _him _to tell her that he was okay.

She didn't work up the nerve to talk to him until later that evening. She had been sitting on the couch debating with herself about which was more selfish – bringing it up and making him talk about it or acting like she didn't know anything so she wouldn't have to deal with his reaction.

Lindsey, who until that point had been sprawled out on the floor whining to Andy that she needed to study but _really really _didn't want to, apparently found some motivation and pushed herself up. "Call me when dinner's ready," she said, disappearing down the hallway.

Andy glanced around the living room – her gaze falling on the twinkling white lights of the Christmas tree – and then got to her feet.

Sam was in the kitchen, pushing vegetables and chicken around in a skillet. He didn't notice her in the doorway so she watched him for a minute, his comfortable and confident movements, before clearing her throat and making her presence known.

He looked over at her and his lips curled into a half smile. "Hey."

Andy blinked. "Hey," she replied, her voice ragged.

Sam looked concerned. "You okay?"

Andy nodded and then, before she could talk herself out of it, crossed the kitchen floor and came up behind him, sliding her arms around his waist. He must have known immediately what was going on because his muscles tensed beneath her hands, his whole body stiffening defensively. The only sound in the room was the oil popping in the skillet but instead of rushing to fill the silence Andy just pressed her lips against his shoulder and ran her hands over the soft material that covered his torso, giving him the chance to be the one to talk first.

Eventually he exhaled deeply and the set of his shoulders relaxed. "Did Nash tell you?"

Andy nodded against him. "You wanna talk about it?"

He tensed again. "About how that woman really fucked up her kids' Christmases from here on out?"

She tried not to flinch as the chilly tone in his voice sent shivers down her spine. "Sure."

"No," he replied sharply, turning the burner off. "I don't."

"Sam…"

"I don't want to talk about it Andy," he repeated firmly.

She sighed and dropped her head into the dip between his shoulder blades. He smelled warm and like himself, the Old Spice soap he used mixed with the faint scent of his deodorant. "Okay," she agreed quietly. There was absolutely no use in pushing the issue.

Sam let her hold him like that for another moment – she would have put money on the bet that it was more for her benefit than his own comfort – before disentangling her arms from around him and moving towards the refrigerator. "I've got to finish getting this ready," he said coolly. "I'll call you when it's done."

He was dismissing her, was what he was doing. Putting some space between them. She nodded and told herself not to take it personally as she slipped out of the kitchen without another word.

She didn't dare bring it up again – didn't really have the chance, actually, with the way that Sam actively avoided being alone in the same room with her. It was almost enough to make her want to roll her eyes and tell him she'd see him in the morning, but… just the fact that he was reacting at all, even if his reaction was to give her the cold shoulder, was progress. It felt like a challenge, actually, like he was testing her to see if she would stick around.

She could be just as stubborn as he was, so she wasn't going anywhere.

Not long after they had finished eating, Lindsey declared that she needed a study break. _A Charlie Brown Christmas _was on TV, which provided a decent distraction for the rest of the night even if Andy barely paid attention to it – before she knew it Charlie and the gang were singing about angels and the ending credits were rolling.

Lindsey said goodnight and made her way up to her room. Andy glanced over at Sam. "Do you want me to go home or – "

His eyes snapped over to meet her gaze and he looked panicked in the half a second it took him to school his expression into neutral detachment. "You can do whatever you want," he said, rising from his chair. "I'm going to bed."

When he turned to walk away Andy rolled her eyes behind his back – she knew it was childish but he was just so incredibly aggravating at times – but then followed him to his room.

He didn't look surprised when she joined him in the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face and when she climbed into bed beside him he lifted the covers for her. It wasn't until she scooted over and put her arm out across his chest that he spoke again.

"Not tonight, Andy."

Which – first of all, if she was trying for something she would have aimed a little lower than his chest, and second, his breathing was labored and his voice was heavy and thick in the darkness and something about his tone just didn't settle right.

Like his mind and body were in conflict.

Like he really _really _wanted to, but for some reason wouldn't.

Andy decided that she'd had enough. She rolled on top of him, straddling his lap, and when he groaned and tried to boost her off she grabbed his hands and pinned them up by his head.

"McNally…" he tried to get out of her grip but she leaned most of her weight onto her arms and was able to keep him where he was.

"Sam," she replied calmly. "Look at me." He sighed but did what she asked. "I know what you're doing, okay? You're trying to shut me out. And if you don't want to talk about Sarah or about that woman this morning... that's fine, I'll respect that. I don't like it," she told him adamantly, "I _want _you to talk to me and let me in and tell me everything that's going on in that head of yours and let me like… _help _you, but if you really can't do that… I'll respect it."

"Andy, just…"

"And if you really don't want to have sex with me tonight, that is totally fine. I am _fine _with just sleeping here with you, but do not," she wiggled her hips down so she could brush against him, eliciting a soft groan, "Do not lie to me."

It wasn't like she thought that sex was going to heal Sam or anything like that, but until that point it was the one part of himself that he had shared with her unguardedly; she didn't think she could handle it if he started building up walls there, too.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and let his head fall back against the pillow. "Andy…"

"Look at me," she demanded again. Pleaded, actually. She needed to see his eyes.

His neck bobbed with a gulp but after a moment of indecision he set his jaw and opened his eyes again. Andy had to stop herself from gasping at the pain that shone bright from behind his lashes.

"Okay," she said, nodding slowly. "Listen to me, okay? If you don't want to, that's fine. But if it's something else… if you're afraid…" she broke off, staring intently at him. There was something there, something that looked less like stubbornness and more like fear. Quietly and seriously, she promised, "No matter what you say or what you do, you are not going to make me think any less of you. You are not going to scare me and you are not going to break me. And I trust you, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

He was absolutely still for a moment and then she watched as his resolve crumbled and his fingers came up to fist in her hair and tug her down to him, covering her mouth with his own. He was rough - he bit at her bottom lip and along her jaw and the hold he had on her hair was just this side of painful, but Andy really couldn't have cared less. If he wasn't going to _tell_ her how he felt at least he could _show_ her.

She kissed her way across his face, down to the spot behind his ear that always got a reaction. She nibbled on it and then when she swiped her tongue over it, gentle and soothing, he growled and rolled them over, covering her body with his own. His weight was warm and heavy and she opened her legs wider so he could settle between them and get himself right up against her. When she rolled her hips up he gasped and bit down on her shoulder, "Shit…. Andy…"

His voice was so low and ragged and… needy that she almost didn't even recognize it. She yanked at the hem of his undershirt until he took the hint and pulled back just enough for her to get it off of him, throwing it to the ground before spreading her fingers out over the familiar lines and ridges of his chest. When she looked back up at him he was peering down at her, eyes ablaze and searching for permission. "You okay?" he asked, the question coming out strangled.

"Yeah." Andy nodded quickly and ran her hands around to his back, digging into the muscles there. "Come 'ere."

Bending his head, he kissed her light and friendly, like he was trying to hold back, until she hooked her legs around his waist and rocked against him. He buried his face in her neck, stifling another groan. "I'm fine, Sam," she promised, doing it again. "Let's go, come on."

The fragile hold he had on his control broke and suddenly he was murmuring against her neck and his hands were everywhere, calloused palms rough against her skin. The pace that he set was frantic and maddening; he pushed her t-shirt up, not even pulling it all the way off, and made quick work of her underwear, dragging it down her legs before moving back up her body. She was desperate to keep up, pushing his boxers as far down as she could reach before he took over and kicked them the rest of the way off.

When they were both rid of their clothes she pulled him down to her, his warm skin searing her own, and cradled the angled line of his jaw in her hand. "Is this okay?" she asked, kissing him quickly. His forehead lined with something – worry, maybe, or something else she couldn't read – and she brought her other hand up to his face. "Hey, come on. I mean it, you're not going to hurt me or scare me or any of that. I trust you. Let's go."

So. Sam went.

He flipped her over like she weighed nothing at all and was warm all along the length of her back. He hesitated for just a second and she knew he was going to ask if she was okay or if she was sure, so she pushed herself back against him preemptively, cutting off his question. When he finally started moving she felt a small thrill of victory kindle in her stomach.

It quickly replaced by a whole host of other feelings; anger, sadness, loss and others she didn't have the time or thought capacity to process. Andy fisted her hands in the sheets and buried her face in the pillow, trying not to make too much noise.

She knew it would be hungry and emotional but just… the level of desperation and rawness was unexpected.

She didn't expect it to leave her completely heartbroken.

When it was over Sam dragged her around to him and kissed her for a long time, both of them calming down. "You okay?" he whispered.

Andy nodded and curled her body against his side, wanting to get as close as she could.

"I hate her sometimes," he told her later, stroking his fingers up her back. "Sarah. For what she did."

Andy pushed herself up to her elbow. Sam was staring at the ceiling, holding his breath as he waited for her to respond. "I know."

Sam sighed and nodded once, quiet again. Andy rested her head against his chest, scratching her fingers through the hair there and just waiting for anything else he might want to say. She could hear his heart thumping behind his ribs.

"The camera is a good idea," he said finally, yawning. "For Lindsey. She'll like that."


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note: Well, it's finally here. I am so sad to see this story come to an end that this chapter was very difficult to write. I am so, so appreciative to all of you who have alerted, favorited and reviewed this story. I know I've said this ad nauseum, but I have been so very grateful for your feedback and support along the way. I hope that you will find the ending enjoyable and satisfying. There is an epilogue on the way- I can't promise that it will be out by Christmas (pesky holiday plans!) but I will do my best to get it out as soon as possible. Again, thank you so much. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue. **

* * *

><p>Before Sam was even fully awake the next morning there were feet pressed into his back and toes digging in a bit painfully right at his kidney, pushing him towards the edge of the bed. He yawned and ran a hand over his face, blinking to orientate himself in the still-dark room.<p>

Andy shoved ineffectively at his shoulder. "Coffee…" she mumbled in his general direction, her voice still hoarse with sleep and her messy hair falling over her face. "Please. Coffee."

Nothing about her request, or her method of encouraging him to get out of the bed for that matter, was unusual, but Sam found himself reluctant to leave.

He felt out of sorts – honestly relieved at the reality that Andy was still in the bed with him, despite her insistences that she wasn't going anywhere and, and this was unusual and not something that he would ever admit to anyone, a bit insecure. He'd pretty much opened himself up and poured himself out the night before, stuff he'd never done with or told anyone other than her, and he was feeling a little exposed. A little vulnerable.

He just wanted to make sure she would still meet his eye after she'd had time to sleep on it.

He caught her foot in his hand, keeping her from kicking at him again, and pushed her hair back so he could get a look at her. "Hey," he said, bracing himself on his elbow and nudging her nose with his. "Good morning."

She huffed a sigh like she was already annoyed with him and her eyes fluttered open to a narrow squint. Oddly, he found her irritation reassuring. "Morning," she croaked out, tilting her face up obligingly to meet his lips. Her hand travelled up from underneath the pillow to the side of his face and then moved back into his hair, her thumb rubbing the curve of his ear.

She certainly didn't seem like she was afraid of him and she wasn't like, running away or anything, throwing her clothes on and bolting. Sam felt himself relax by degrees into the sleep warmed body that was far softer than it looked – wound tight and lean muscle during the day but loose and yielding when she wrapped herself around him at night – and he let out a sigh when her foot rubbed up his calf and locked behind his knee, cradling him against her.

He kissed her lazily, letting her wake up some more, and then carefully leaned over her body so he could flick a lamp on, bathing the room in soft light.

Andy's body immediately went rigid. "Oh geez," she whined dramatically, arching her back and squeezing her eyes shut. "Turn it off."

He didn't turn it off. Instead, he fisted the comforter in his hand and yanked it down.

Andy hissed and curled into a fetal position. "Seriously?" she whimpered. "What the hell, Sam? It's freezing."

"It is not," he replied, but he slid her closer so they could share body heat, limbs tangling together. Her knee landed dangerously close to his groin and he couldn't tell if it was on purpose or not. He let her get settled and then, trying to be discrete, he spread his hand out over the warm flesh of her hip and rolled her back, glancing down between them.

It was just… the night before was intense, incredibly so – even for him, and even though she'd sworn a hundred different times that she was "_fine Sam, stop worrying_," he wanted to get a good look for himself.

She saw right through it in two seconds flat, which was impressive given her lack of caffeine intake. Impressive and a little disconcerting, actually, how well she already seemed to know him.

"Oh my god, really? No, Sam. No," she said, gathering his hands and slapping them away before reaching for the comforter. She pulled it up over herself and nestled back into the mattress, closing her eyes against the light.

Sam frowned and pushed at her shoulder. "Andy, come on, just let me look…"

"Go get me some coffee," she interrupted him, yawning and starting to shove him again. "Then I'll let you look all you want."

He paused for a second, skeptical. "Really?"

She nodded sleepily into the pillow. "Really," she promised, mumbling and already drifting off again.

Sam exhaled and raked a hand through his hair, scratching at the back of his neck for a long moment as his eyes wandered over the gentle curve of her body beneath the covers, then reluctantly got to his feet. He pulled on the pair of discarded flannel pants that he found beside the bed and walked out to the kitchen.

It was dark in the house – still early out, the winter sun hadn't come up yet. As he made his way down the hallway he realized that the kitchen light was still on, which was odd, but he shrugged it off and figured that he must have forgotten to flip it off before going to bed. God knew his head hadn't exactly been in its normal, rational, _controlled_ place.

He shook his head just thinking about it, still trying to wrap his mind around everything, and when he rounded the corner into the kitchen that last thing he was expecting to see was his niece sitting down at the table, books spread out in front of her.

The sight stopped him in his tracks.

There were still moments, though they were getting fewer are farther between, when he forgot that Lindsey lived with him. Forgot that some of the events of the last six months had been more than just a bad nightmare. Then, when he remembered, there was a rush of guilt that always filled his stomach, shame that he, the person she was supposed to be able to rely on for love and security and protection, had forgotten about her.

Lindsey noticed him in the doorway and jumped slightly, startled by his presence. "Oh, hey."

He was thankful he'd taken the time to slip on some pants even though he was pretty sure they were the ones Andy had been wearing the last time Lindsey had seen the two of them together. He hoped that maybe she wouldn't recognize them. "Hey, sorry. What're you doing?"

"Studying. It's finals week," she reminded him, pointing her highlighter towards the coffeemaker. "I made coffee."

He fought the urge to remind her that she was in seventh grade and that tests weren't worth losing sleep over yet. Or ever, really. Admittedly, he didn't know much about parenting but he figured that discouraging studious behavior wasn't a good thing. Instead, he narrowed his eyes. "How do you know how to make coffee?"

Lindsey shrugged her thin shoulders. "I know how to do lots of things," she told him, turning her attention back to her books.

It wasn't the most comforting response Sam had ever heard, especially not from an almost teenage girl who was far more boy crazy than he was comfortable with.

Any boy crazy, really, was far more boy crazy than he was comfortable with.

"Oh yeah? Like what?" he said, crossing the tile floor and opening one of the upper cabinets to pull out a single mug. His plan was to get Andy her coffee and then get some for himself later. He didn't particularly care if Lindsey knew that Andy stayed over – he didn't really think that she would care – but Andy still felt weird about it.

"Change a tire. Check the oil and transmission fluid," Lindsey answered smoothly, things he'd taught her how to do as soon as she was old enough because Sarah had been absolutely hopeless at car maintenance. "Pick a lock. Shoot a gun."

Sam grinned, pouring the coffee. "How'd you learn how to do all that?"

"The internet," she deadpanned.

"Funny girl," he replied dryly, opening the refrigerator. "What're you studying for?"

She stretched her arms up over her head and turned to face him again, eyeing him closely as he poured creamer into the mug. "Social studies. Since when do you take creamer in your coffee?"

Sam flinched and a little bit of coffee sloshed over the side. He was fairly certain Lindsey was going to grow up to be a detective with the way she noticed _everything, _way too observant for her own good_. _He struggled for an answer, not wanting to lie, but when he glanced over at her she was smirking at him.

Way too observant for her own good.

"I pretty much already knew anyway," she told him confidently, not sounding at all upset.

Sam was quiet, half hoping for a procedural handbook to materialize out of thin air – _How to Respond When Your Niece Busts You on Your Girlfriend Sleeping Over. _There was a time when talking to someone of the female gender didn't leave him completely tongue-tied and falling all over himself. He swallowed hard and tried to remember what that had been like. "Yeah?"

Lindsey nodded.

"Are you – " Sam broke off, not quite sure what he was asking. He moved across the kitchen and lowered himself into the chair beside her. "I mean, is it okay with you?"

She shrugged again. "It's your house," she replied vaguely.

The answer made Sam's chest tighten and he wondered what he'd done to give her that impression. "It's your house too, Lindsey," he told her, reaching out to cover one of her small hands with his own. "You get to have an opinion about what goes on here."

The ends of her lips curled up at that, as if it was the validation she had been looking for. "Yeah," she said, "I'm okay with it."

"Okay," Sam said, nodding once. "Good."

"I've need to get back to studying," she said, gesturing towards her books.

"Right, okay." He watched her for a moment and then, just to make sure, he asked, "You know we're talking about Andy, right?"

Lindsey looked back at him and exaggeratedly rolled her eyes, like he was honestly the dumbest person she'd ever had to deal with. "Yeah, I know."

"Good." Sam smiled. "That's good."

She grinned at him and then titled her chin towards the coffee maker. "You might as well get your own coffee now," she said. He was fairly certain she was teasing him. "Nice try, though. Good effort."

Sam smirked at her and got up to grab another mug, muttering under his breath, "Smartass."

"Amateur," she retorted, burying her head back into a pile of notes.

Sam fixed his coffee but before retreating back to his room, he made his way back over to the table and stood beside Lindsey's chair, reaching out to ruffle her hair. "Love you, kid."

She looked up at him, blinking in surprise. "Love you, too."

Sam winked and then let her get back to studying, carrying both mugs carefully towards the bedroom.

Andy was still sleeping, cocooned in a tangled mound of blankets. She'd told him at the beginning, after wringing the request for her to stay out of him, that she didn't sleep well in other people's beds and not to be surprised if she wasn't there when he woke up.

"Don't take it personally," she'd said, shrugging. "It's just, you know, preference."

But then she'd never NOT been there when he'd woken up (on the days she slept over, at least) so he still wasn't really sure what the warning had been about. He wasn't about to bring it up and ask her about it – she'd probably leave just to prove a point.

He set the coffee on the bedside table and then climbed back into the bed, slipping in beside her. As if by instinct, she slung her arm across his chest and scooted against him, nuzzling her face in the crook of his neck.

"Hey," he said, nudging her hip, "I brought coffee."

She mumbled something unintelligible into his shoulder and snuggled closer. The leg she threw over his waist and how warm she was against him was almost enough to make him give in and concede to her obvious desire for more sleep.

Almost.

"Andy," he said, rubbing his hand up and down her thigh. "We've got to get up here, we've both got to work."

Andy groaned again but opened her eyes. He could feel her eyelashes brush against his collarbone. "Next time we like… stay up that late," she said, yawning and patting his stomach, "It needs to be when we don't have morning shift the next day."

Sam's hand stilled on her leg. "Oh yeah?"

"Well," she said quietly, stretching out a little, her muscles flexing under his palm. "No, guess you can't really time that kind of thing."

Sam was quiet, worse case scenarios running through his head. "Andy," he broke off, cleared his throat and then started again. "I'm uh…"

"Don't," she interrupted him immediately.

"What?" he asked, puzzled.

She pushed herself up so she could look at him, her hands braced on his chest. "Don't apologize. I wanted you to, okay? I practically begged you. If you start apologizing now you're gonna make me feel like crap so just… just don't, okay? Please."

Sam wanted to tell her that she didn't _make _him do anything, that it was all on him and that he was going to feel like the biggest jackass in the world if he'd hurt her, but she was looking at him with that stubborn gleam in her eye that he'd learned pretty quickly not to mess with.

He pushed her hair back behind her ear and then let his fingers run through the strands down to the ends, tugging gently. "Okay."

Andy nodded once and then, with one hand still on his chest to keep herself steady, reached across him for her coffee.

"Lindsey was in the kitchen, by the way," he told her, propping her pillow up so she could lean against the headboard. "She uh, she kind of figured out that you were still here."

Andy didn't respond at first – she settled back, yanking the sheet up with her to cover her chest and took a long sip of her coffee. Then, she cut her eyes over to him accusatorily. "Oh yeah? How'd she do that?"

Sam scooted down so he could rest his head on her stomach and stroked his thumb over her hipbone. "She's twelve, not stupid."

It was something they'd repeated to each other like an inside joke ever since that first time when she'd thrown a shoe at him and said it – whenever she picked up on a line of conversation that they didn't think she'd understand or if she started talking about something with maturity that far exceeded her twelve years. _Twelve, not stupid. _

"Also apparently she knows how I take my coffee," he admitted.

Andy snorted lightly. "Uh huh," she said, working her fingers through his hair and scratching her nails against his scalp. "How'd she take it?"

"She's fine," Sam replied easily. "I don't think she's scarred or anything by the idea."

"Mmm," Andy hummed. "Okay." He knew they'd probably have a more serious conversation about it when she was fully-caffeinated.

They were quiet for another couple of minutes – Andy drinking her coffee, Sam trying to convince himself to sit up and get his own but just being way too comfortable to actually find the strength. It was the kind of scene Sam could imagine happening _every _morning. Quiet and calm, just a few minutes together before getting ready to face the world.

They hadn't been together very long, and probably with everything that had happened that year he should have been a little more cautious, a little slower maybe, but already Sam found himself wanting her and wanting _them_ more than he'd wanted anything in his life.

He turned his neck at an awkward angle so he could look up at her.

She didn't notice at first because her eyes had drifted shut again, but when she brought her hand down expecting to feel hair and felt the stubbly skin of his jaw instead, her eyes popped open. "What?" she said after a moment, self-conscious. Her free hand went up and checked her hair.

"Nothing." Sam just shook his head and then pushed himself up, pressing a quick kiss against her lips before rolling out of the bed. "I'm gonna hop in the shower."

"'Kay," Andy said slowly, watching him curiously. "Don't take all the hot water."

She didn't join him in the shower – she didn't always and he wasn't necessarily expecting her to, he just kind of thought that she might. He tried not to read too much into it.

He was shaving when she finally made her way into the bathroom and jumped up onto the counter, wedging herself between the wall and the sink. She liked to watch him, he'd noticed- ever so often she'd sit and talk to him while he carefully smoothed the razor over his face, getting rid of the previous day's growth.

She was wearing one of his clean white undershirts that she'd nabbed from the top drawer of his dresser. It just barely grazed the tops of her thighs and her long, bare legs stuck out from the bottom. "Can I try?" she asked quietly, eyes flicking up to meet his. She looked almost sheepish, like it had been a thought that had popped into her mind that she'd said without thinking it over.

Sam raised an eyebrow, staring at her and trying to decide whether or not she was serious. After a moment he held the razor out and she took it with a pleased grin. "Be careful," he warned, settling his hands on her hips when she scooted over in front of him, sitting right on the edge of the sink.

Andy scoffed, twisting around so she could turn the faucet on and run the razor underneath the warm water. "I do regularly shave you know," she insisted, facing him again.

Sam let out a soft snort and ran his hands down her legs, rubbing circles over her knees. "Could've fooled me," he said, grinning as the short stubble prickled his palms.

Silky smooth legs were one of the first things to go when they really started getting serious; they never got like, _unruly _or anything like that, but she had definitely starting stretching out the number of days she would go between. He always knew when she _had _shaved because she would throw her legs into his lap so he'd recognize and comment upon the effort she'd made.

Andy smirked up at him. "I said regularly," she protested, the ends of her lips curling upwards despite how much she was trying to fight it. "I didn't say often."

"Oh, okay," Sam muttered, winking down at her.

The very tip of her pink tongue stuck out from between her teeth as she concentrated on the task at hand and her heels pressed firmly into the backs of his towel-clad thighs to keep herself balanced. She went in the same order he always did – he wasn't sure why, but it surprised him to know that she'd paid that much attention to him and his routines. It um… well, if he wasn't already in love with her it probably would have pushed him right over.

Sam let his fingers brush right under the hemline of her shirt, pushing it up a little so he could run his thumbs along the crease of her thigh and the edge of her panties. He did that a couple of times, curling his fingers lower each pass, until she squirmed and told him to cut it out. "Do you want me to cut you?" she asked, giggling and yanking her shirt back down. "Stop trying to distract me."

He wasn't really trying to distract her; mostly he just needed to do something with his hands and wanted to feel her again. "You told me I could look if I brought you coffee," he reminded her.

"So look," she said, moving the razor in short little strokes to clean up the edges of his sideburns. "You don't have to feel me up to do that."

Sam huffed but then pushed the shirt back up, raking his eyes over all the skin that he could see. He glanced in the mirror to get a look at her back and pulled down at the neckline to look at her throat and shoulders.

"Well?" Andy asked eventually, working down the right side of his face.

Truth be told, Sam wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but aside from a couple of thumbprint bruises that marred the flesh of her hips and a mark at her collarbone, there wasn't much evidence from the previous night. "It's not that bad."

"I told you that you weren't gonna hurt me," she said, almost smug.

"Yeah, well," Sam ran his hands down to the backs of her knees and hitched her legs tighter around him. "Just wanted to check."

"Mmmhmm," she murmured, raising a wet, warm washcloth to his cheek to wipe off the film of shaving cream. She was gentle and careful, getting every last speck.

There was a lot more that he wanted to ask her, how she was feeling and if she _really_ wasn't going to leave him, but he stopped himself. There was a fine line between needing reassurance and just being needy and he was pretty sure he was bumping right up against it.

She rinsed the washcloth out and when she turned back around her mouth opened the slightest bit, like she had something to say, but after stuttering around for a little bit she clamped it shut, frowning.

"What?"

"I just…" her forehead wrinkled as she chose her words. Finally, she settled on, "Thank you. For letting me in a little last night. I mean, I know it wasn't easy for you and you probably didn't want to, but I appreciated..."

"I wanted to," Sam admitted, interrupting her and probably surprising her. Surprising himself.

Andy's face brightened. "You did?"

Sam shrugged and then nodded, honestly not trusting himself with words at that moment.

"Oh," Andy said, looking like a weight had been lifted off of her. "You're not mad?"

Sam almost laughed. "No," he said. "Why would I be mad?"

"Just, you know," she raised her shoulders and then let them drop with a sigh, "You're a private person and you were pretty set against talking earlier, I just didn't know if maybe you thought I like, coerced you into talking or something…"

"Coerced me?" Sam repeated dubiously.

She fixed him with a look. "You know what I mean."

"You didn't coerce me," he assured her. "And I'm not mad."

"Well," Andy said, squirting some shaving cream into her hand. "Good, I'm glad."

As she wiggled around on the countertop to get comfortable again, Sam honestly wasn't sure which he'd rather do more – laugh at how ridiculous she could be or kiss her and tell her a whole bunch of other stuff he'd never told anyone. Or, hadn't told anyone _recently_.

He did neither. Instead, he watched her as she lathered up his chin, spitting a little when she got some of the cream in his mouth.

"Sorry," she muttered, wiping it away with her thumb.

Sam shook his head. "S'okay."

His hands found their way to the gentle curve of her hips again and he looked, really looked, down at her - taking in her thick, lowered lashes, the ridges of her cheekbones, her delicate, pointed nose and her full, soft lips. God, Andy McNally was a beautiful girl, sometimes it kind of made him dizzy just to be around her.

"What?" she asked, eyes wide and smiling shyly up at him. "Why do keep looking at me like that?"

Sam pursed his lips and shook his head. "Nothing," he said, tweaking her hair and feeling a tugging in his chest. She was warm and close and his towel wasn't doing much to hide his body's reaction to her. "You're pretty."

Andy snorted and rolled her eyes, like he'd embarrassed her. "Yeah, okay."

"McNally," he said, raising an eyebrow and using his training officer voice, low and in control, "Accept the compliment."

She flicked her eyes up at him, smiling a little, and then went back to work.

Sam was quiet for another minute, gathering his nerve, and then he cleared his throat. "I love you."

It took a moment for his words to sink in but when they finally did Andy's whole body tensed and when she dropped the razor it sliced right into the meat of his chin. Sam tried not to flinch at the pain, sharp and stinging like a paper cut. "Shit," Andy hissed, springing into action and quickly leaning over to tear off a piece of toilet paper. She dabbed it against his chin to stop the bleeding. "Shit, I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"No, you didn't hurt me," Sam assured her, chuckling as he took the tissue from her and held it against his face. She looked positively stricken and he wasn't sure if it was from what he'd said or what she'd done. "It's fine, Andy, promise."

Her eyes were wide and she blinked a couple of times before asking, "Seriously?"

"Seriously you didn't hurt me or seriously I love you?" Sam asked, honestly not sure which it was.

She swallowed, hard. "Both, I guess," she said, her brow furrowing.

He pushed her bangs back off her forehead and waited for her to meet his gaze. "Well then yes, seriously, to both," he clarified.

She nodded slowly and then, before Sam really knew what was happening, pressed her lips firmly to his, twining her arms around his neck. "Yeah?" she mumbled against him, her teeth tugging at his bottom lip.

"Yeah."

She kissed him harder then, wrapping herself flush against him. Sam wanted to slow her down, make her tell him what she was thinking, but instead he just tightened his arms around her and let her work it out on her own.

"I just…" she said finally, kissing him again before looking up at him. Her eyes were a little bit red and her lips were pink and swollen. She blinked to focus and then she brought her hands to frame his face, telling him seriously, "Me too."

He knew what she meant, he did, but that didn't stop him from asking, "You love yourself?" It was childish as soon as the words left his mouth he wanted to cringe at how lame it sounded, but he also just really, _really_ wanted to hear her say it.

Andy let out and burst of laughter and then shook her head. "No," she said. "I mean, I love you, too."

He felt like he was on a rollercoaster being slung from one emotional extreme to the other. "Oh," he said, fairly certain he was grinning like he'd just won the lottery. "Well, that's good, McNally, since you just sliced up my face and all. Who's gonna want me now?"

Andy was still shaking her head, her goofy grin stretching back to her ears. "No one, it was all part of my master plan."

He leaned in, forehead to forehead. "Smart woman," he mumbled, just barely brushing his lips against hers.

"Don't you forget it," she replied, closing the distance between them.

They kissed, lazy and giggly, repeating the sentiment an embarrassing number of times, until Sam remembered what time it was. "McNally," he said in between kisses, "We're gonna be late."

She nodded but kept right on kissing him, running her hand down his chest and tugging on the knot that was keeping his towel up. "Yeah okay, work, got it."

Sam laughed against her, grabbing hold of her wrist to keep her from going any lower. "McNally, come on," he said, jostling one of her legs, "We've got to get it together." She whined a little and Sam understood, he really did, he wanted to push her shirt up and get his hands on her and take her back to bed and make her tell him over and over again, but… they had to work and they were going to be very _very _late if she didn't unwrap her long legs from around his waist and get in the shower. "Andy…"

"Fine, fine," she said, hopping down off the counter. She brushed her thumb over the cut on his chin and then kissed him once more before shimmying out of her clothes and climbing into the shower.

For the rest of the day Sam kept touching his chin and grinning to himself. Or, at least, he thought it was to himself until Oliver quirked an eyebrow during parade and asked who'd slipped him some happy pills. Andy had been sitting in front of them and Sam watched as her shoulders started shaking in silent laughter.

"What?" Sam asked, trying to glare at his friend. It didn't work very well.

"You're like… you're smiling," Oliver told him, eyeing him warily, "It's gonna freak people out."

Sam narrowed his eyes and then carefully schooled his expression, turning his attention back to Best. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Oliver break into a wide grin and then a second later felt a hearty slap on his back.

Christmas came and went. It was bittersweet, which Sam had pretty much been expecting. There were moments that he forgot all about Sarah and then moments when the reality of it all was like a crushing weight on his chest, making it difficult to breathe. It was the strangest things that brought it on – a song on the radio, a look on Lindsey's face, the way Andy was meticulous with her wrapping paper and ribbon selection, just like Sarah had been. He wondered when it was all going to even out; when he wouldn't need to spend a couple of seconds collecting himself because Lindsey could recite lines from _Elf _by heart.

Andy spent the day with them; when she'd first asked about what their plans were she seemed like she thought he might actually tell her she wasn't invited.

"Are you joking?" he asked when she suggested late one night that maybe she should just come over for dinner or something. He rolled to his side and threaded his fingers through her hair, making her look at him. "No, Andy, you have to be there, you're…" he stopped himself from saying _family, _but that was exactly what he had been thinking. "You have to be there. I don't think I can do it without you."

Even in the dark he could see the pleased smile she got whenever he said something unexpectedly sweet spread across her face. "Okay. But my dad…"

"Invite him over, too," Sam told her. "I don't care."

That was how Tommy McNally ended up in his kitchen on Christmas morning, flipping pancakes on the griddle. "Swarek," he said gruffly when the two of them were alone. "You know that I like you son, you're a good cop and a good man."

The bout of nerves that suddenly took over Sam's body was unexpected.

Until that point, Sam hadn't been too worried about what Tommy would say about his relationship with Andy. For one thing, while Andy obviously respected and loved her dad, Sam didn't get the impression that his blessing was needed for the relationship to continue and, another thing, Sam had worked with him long enough to know that, aside from a couple of drunken scuffles at the Penny, Tommy was a level-headed, reasonable man.

Of course, when they worked together Sam hadn't been sleeping with his daughter.

He nodded, knowing the compliments weren't going to last. "Yes sir."

Tommy turned and leveled a glare at him that would have made the most hardened of criminals cry. "If you hurt my daughter, I will kill you. We clear?" No beating around the bush – clear, simple and direct like the experienced officer he was.

Even though Andy was a fully-grown adult, a copper no less, and could definitely take care of herself, Sam understood and respected the innate desire a father had to protect his daughter.

He nodded again. "Yes sir."

"Good," Tommy said, clapping his shoulder and grinning like he hadn't just threatened a life. "Let's go have some breakfast, eh?"

He didn't stay for very long – just long enough to eat breakfast and open a couple of presents – but it was enough for Andy to be happy and feel like he had been included. After he left she scrunched her nose and asked, "Did he say anything embarrassing?"

Sam just shook his head and winked. "No," he promised. "He was fine."

Lindsey seemed to handle the day well – once she finally came downstairs that was. Sam and Andy had been up for over an hour and were drinking coffee in the living room when he worriedly glanced towards the stairs.

"This isn't like her," he told Andy. "She's normally awake and opening presents before the sun comes up."

"Well, she's older now," Andy said, shrugging and rubbing his back. "Maybe she slept in. Give her a few more minutes."

A few minutes passed and Sam grew restless again, standing up to pace around the room. After the fourth or fifth time he stopped and looked down the hallway, Andy sighed and said, "Let me go see if she's awake."

Sam nodded and continued pacing while he waited. It wasn't long before Andy and Lindsey descended the stairs, both smiling and Andy's arm wrapped loosely around Lindsey's shoulders.

Later, Andy told Sam what had happened.

"Hey Linds," Andy said, tapping lightly on the girl's door. "You awake?"

"Yeah," was the small reply. "You can come in."

Andy pushed the door open to find the girl wide-awake but still curled up beneath her comforter. She tilted her head to the side. "You coming downstairs?"

"Yeah," Lindsey said, making no attempt to move.

Andy exhaled softly and moved into the bedroom. "Can I join you?" she asked, nodding towards the bed.

Lindsey nodded.

Andy pushed back the comforter and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for a couple of moments to see if Lindsey was going to say anything. Unsurprisingly, she didn't. Lindsey, like her uncle, wasn't one to open up unless prodded.

"You okay?" Andy asked eventually, stroking her fingers through the girl's dark, curly hair. Lindsey just nodded under her hand. After another minute Andy tried again. "You sad?"

She heard Lindsey let out sharp breath. "No," she said, her voice shaky. "I'm just…" she broke off, not finishing her thought.

"Scared that you're going to be?" Andy asked, filling in the gaps.

"Yeah," Lindsey answered quietly.

"I know," Andy told her. Andy remembered what that was like; it wasn't always the sadness that could be paralyzing, sometimes it was just the fear of being sad. She still felt it on occasion – some birthdays, holidays, the anniversary of the day her mom left –that fear of hurting again. "How about this," she suggested, "How about you come downstairs and we just… we just try for a little while, okay? And if it makes you too sad or if it's too much, we can stop and you can come back up here and hang out for the rest of the day, watch movies or whatever. But, let's just try. Do you think you can do that?"

Lindsey was silent for a moment, thinking it over, and then she nodded and pushed herself up, letting Andy lead her downstairs.

There were still a few heavy moments, like when Lindsey opened her present from Sam and met his eye across the room, her chin quivering before she even finished unwrapping it. "You're in charge of photo albums now," he told her, smiling softly.

They shared a knowing look and then Lindsey blinked a couple times and wiped away the tears that had pooled in her eyes. She quickly held the camera up, told Andy and Sam to lean together, and snapped her inaugural picture.

He'd ended up shelling out a small fortune for the camera. Epstein had gladly accompanied him to Best Buy to pick one out, blathering on and on about digital versus film and aperture and shutter speed and a whole bunch of other stuff Sam didn't really understand. He finally just asked Epstein which one he would want to have and bought that one. As a thank you for helping him out, Sam bought Epstein a drink at the Penny.

"I'm pretty sure I could have had my way with him if I'd wanted," Sam told Andy later.

She smirked. "Pretty sure you wouldn't have had to buy him a drink for that."

It was Andy's gift that he'd had the hardest time with. Every time he'd asked her what she wanted she would answer with a completely unhelpful, "Ummm, I don't really know" or, equally unhelpfully, "You. Naked, preferably. With a bow."

His go-to present was usually jewelry but he'd done his homework and aside from a couple of pairs of stud earrings and a really crappy, plastic watch that she never took off, Andy didn't wear much jewelry.

He was pretty much as a loss until she'd mentioned a camping trip she and her dad had taken when she was in high school. Camping was obviously out – aside from the fact that he hated it, it was the dead middle of winter – but he'd done a little research (on the _internet_, a fact he pointed out to her later) and found a bed and breakfast on Lake Huron with openings in January. After checking their schedules, pulling a couple of strings and making sure Lindsey could stay with the Shaw's, he'd booked them for the weekend after New Year's.

Andy's face lit up brighter than the Christmas tree when she'd opened the small box to find an itinerary that he had no intention of following, it was just the only thing he could think of to wrap. "You know this place is like, in the middle of the woods, right?"

When Sam nodded she squealed and wrapped her arms tight around his neck, so he was pretty sure he'd done a good job.

His gifts hadn't been to shabby either; clothing and a new coffeemaker, which he'd halfway been expecting due to Andy's less than subtle disdain for his current one and – and this was a complete and total surprise – two tickets to drive the Zamboni during a local minor league game from Lindsey.

Both of them had been wearing these excited, expectant expressions on their faces when he slowly pulled the ribbon off the flat box, looking like one or both of them were going to tackle him and open it for him. It had taken him a second to realize what the tickets were for but when he looked back over at them they were grinning bright and wide and nodding furiously.

"We tried to get it for a Leafs game, but apparently they don't do that," Lindsey told him.

"Seriously?" He asked, slowly pulling the tickets out of the box and looking them over. "Lindsey, these are… these were_ expensive._"

"Andy helped me out," she said, shrugging.

"We pooled our resources," Andy admitted, "But it was totally Lindsey's idea."

"Yeah, we figured you and Mr. Oliver could go." She looked up at him. "You like it?"

"Lindsey… yes, I love it," he said, nodding and pulling his niece into his arms. "Thank you."

When he'd called Oliver to tell him about it, Oliver, after letting out a _whoop_ that had Sam pulling the phone away from his ear, said, "Wow, that's way better than a book on tape."

They spent the rest of the day hanging out and watching movies in the new Christmas pajamas Andy had gotten everyone and insisted they wear. Sam had grumbled about it because he figured she expected him to, but the idea of starting a new Christmas tradition with Andy and Lindsey, even one as dumb as Christmas pajamas, wasn't something he was opposed to.

At least she didn't force them to wear _matching_ pajamas.

He probably would have done that, too.

It took Sam all day to work up the courage to ask Lindsey if she wanted to go to St. Catherine's and visit her mother's grave the next day. Andy had to work but he thought they could drive down, spend a little bit of time there and then come back.

Lindsey had gotten very quiet before shaking her head and telling him she wasn't ready. "I just… I don't think I want to, not yet," she said, chewing anxiously on her bottom lip.

"That's fine Lindsey," he told her, patting her leg. "Whenever you're ready."

Part of him wondered if it wasn't something that he should push, steps of grieving and all that, but the larger part of him was honestly relieved. He wasn't quite sure it was something he was ready for yet, either.

Still, he was very conscious to try and spend quality time with Lindsey – as new as everything was with Andy, and despite how much Lindsey liked her, Sam worried that Lindsey might feel overlooked or left out. "Maybe you and I can go ice skating or something," he suggested.

"You can ice skate?" she asked skeptically.

"Of course I can ice skate," he replied, scoffing and feigning offense. When Lindsey just raised an eyebrow he sighed and confessed, "Okay, I haven't been in the last twenty years or so."

"Yeah," Lindsey said, grinning. "That's what I thought."

Sam smirked. "Okay, maybe not ice skating. We could, um…" he paused to think of another option. "We could go out to the lake to try out your camera. Would you like that?"

Lindsey was nodding enthusiastically in reply when Andy returned from the kitchen with a tray of cookies and three mugs filled to the brim with hot chocolate.

"Fresh from the oven," Andy boasted, setting the tray down between them and sinking crossed-legged to the ground. "I actually made the cookies all by myself."

"Are they safe to eat?" Lindsey teased, reaching out to grab the biggest one.

Andy grinned mischievously and winked over at the girl, "Better let your uncle take the first bite."

The year before Sam had spent Christmas alone in his crappy undercover apartment, nursing a bottle of scotch and singing drunken renditions of carols to his plant. There was no way he could have predicted the events that occurred that year and, as they sat sipping their hot chocolate and eating their very edible cookies, Sam couldn't help but wonder what the next year might look like.

A few days later Andy nodded her head towards the Christmas tree and mused, "We're gonna have to take that down at some point you know."

It was late at night – they probably should have already been in bed but had yet to summon the energy to move. Lindsey had said goodnight about an hour before and after that Sam had tugged Andy down on top of him. They were stretched out on the sofa, Sam with one foot on the floor and Andy curled against his chest.

Her fingers traced over the waffle weave pattern of his shirt. "We can't leave it up forever."

"I think it's okay to wait until after New Year's," Sam said, slowly brushing his knuckles up and down the ridges of her backbone.

"Oh yeah?" Andy asked, grinning against the curve of his shoulder. "Is that proper Christmas tree etiquette?"

Sam cracked up, letting out a hearty laugh and Andy giggled in response. It was one of those times when everything seemed a hundred times funnier than it actually was because of how exhausted he was. "It is," he said when the laughter died down. "Plus it's gonna make a huge mess and I don't want to deal with that right now."

Andy yawned into his neck. "Okay."

There was a stretch of silence; one of those warm, comfortable moments that Sam was coming to realize he _really_ enjoyed.

They never lasted very long, but that was okay, too. "Favorite Christmas memory," Andy said quietly, breaking the silence.

She liked to talk to him late at night, probably when she figured his defenses were down and he was more likely to open up. It was everything from how his day was to if he'd ever been married to what his favorite subject had been in school. Sometimes they'd be right in the middle of things and she'd stop, ask him a question and then refuse to move again until he answered it.

He wanted to tell her that she didn't have to resort to bribery to get answers out of him but he had to admit it was kind of an ingenious tactic.

Ingenious and sometimes incredibly frustrating.

"This one's ranking pretty high up there," Sam answered, knowing full-well he wasn't going to be able to get away with what she would see as a cop out answer.

Andy punched him lightly on the arm. "This one doesn't count," she told him. "A real one, from when you were little."

Sam sighed and thought it over. "Eight years old," he said, settling on a memory. "Back then I thought I wanted to be a mechanic when I grew up so for Christmas my mom got me this model engine thing. I probably put it together and took it apart twenty different times the first day I had it."

"Eight years old?" she said slowly, like she was mulling it over.

Sam answered the question he knew she was asking. "The last Christmas before everything with Sarah," he confirmed. "The last Christmas we were…" he hesitated, making a face, "I don't know, normal, I guess."

Andy gave him a sad half smile and pushed herself up so she could press a kiss against his lips. She went to pull back but he tangled his hand into her silky dark hair and held her there for a moment, kissing her gently and unhurriedly, stroking his thumb over her cheekbone.

He finally had to break away so that they could breathe and he couldn't help but grin as he watched her slowly blink and open her eyes, coming out of a daze. She smiled back at him and brushed her lips over his once more before resting her head against his chest again.

"I can't imagine you as anything other than cop," she said.

"No?"

She shook her head. "You're too good at it, like it just comes naturally or something."

"I've been doing it for a long time now," he replied modestly, running his hand down over the back of her head, smoothing out her hair.

Andy glanced up at him in a hard stare. "Accept the compliment, Swarek."

His lips twitched with a smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said, grinning and pleased with herself. She propped her chin up on her hand and asked, "What about me? See me as anything other than a cop?"

Sam pretended to consider it. "Insurance, maybe," he said finally, chuckling at the face she made and the way her nostrils flared. "In that little suit thing you wore to the bar that one time."

"Oh yeah," she said, remembering. She tapped her finger against his chest. "The first time you tried to pick me up."

Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I did _not_ try to pick you up," he protested.

"Uh, you bought me a drink _and _you took me home," Andy reminded him.

"Completely innocent," Sam insisted. "Just trying to be a good neighbor."

"Uh huh, pretty sure you were starting to have a thing for me," Andy said, grinning. "It was the suit, wasn't it?"

She was teasing him, but he responded seriously. "Nah," he admitted, smiling slowly and cupping her face in his hand. "It wasn't the suit."

A bright smile broke out across Andy's face as she leaned in to kiss him once more, grinning hard against his lips.

"I'm kidding about the insurance thing," Sam told her a couple of minutes later. "Can't imagine you as anything but a copper."

Andy sighed and tucked her head under his chin, starting to yawn. "Yeah?"

"You're good," he said, and she was, too. Of course she still had her rookie moments and there were times when Sam wondered if she'd listened to a word he'd said, but she was tough. And smart. She could read people well and half the time didn't need to be told what to do, she just kind of intuitively knew how to get through to whoever they were talking to. She had the kind of good-hearted, wholesome nature that people just naturally gravitated to and trusted.

"And, you know, you're with me now," he told her. "So my incredible skill probably rubs off at night."

"Your skill, huh?" Andy asked. "Is that what that is?"

Sam just laughed, skimming his hand up and down her back. At first it was just light and then, when she stopped squirming around and got comfortable on him, with more intent. He slowly worked up one side of her backbone, paying attention to the knots at her shoulders and the noises that she made, and then back down, rubbing his fingers in tiny circles and concentrating on specific areas whenever she let out a pleased little moan.

Andy's breathing eventually evened out and for a few minutes he thought that she had fallen asleep. He kept going though, feeling the rise and fall of her chest and the way her ribs expanded under his hands with every breath.

Just when he was about to drift off as well he heard, "Were you scared in there, today?"

_In there _had been an escalating domestic dispute they'd been called to; a drunk, abusive husband wielding a shotgun and holding his kid on one side of the room and the wife crying and hysterical on the other, Sam and Andy in between. It had been loud and out of control and the fact that a kid was involved made it all the more terrifying.

He considered lying to her but wondered what the point would be. He swallowed hard, trying to wet his suddenly dry, sandpapery mouth, and then eventually admitted, "Yeah. You?"

She picked her head up and he expected her to be wearing a teasing grin, asking what kind of copper he thought he was. Instead, her eyes were dark and serious. "No," she said, her sharp chin digging into his chest as she shook her head. "I mean… you were there."

Sam immediately felt a hot bloom of pride spread throughout his chest. He was stunned for a second as he ran the words over again in his mind and tried to process the honesty and trust in her warm, brown eyes. Andy McNally said a lot of things during the day – she definitely hit her word quota and probably his too – and some of those things didn't mean anything and some of them did and that just, well…

_You were there._

His presence was enough to keep her calm, keep her from being afraid.

That _meant _something. Probably more than she realized.

When he finally recovered enough to form a thought she was looking up at him with a small smile and flushed cheeks, like maybe she did understand how much it meant and liked knowing she had that affect on him. "Andy…" he tried to think of something to say, but his words got lost in the lump in his throat.

She bit her bottom lip and lifted her hand to his face, thumbing the almost healed over mark on his chin. "Love you," she said softly.

Try as he might, Sam couldn't keep the grin off his face. He grasped her skinny shoulders in both hands and slid her up to meet him, hesitating for just a moment as he bumped his nose against hers. "Love you, too," he repeated sincerely, dropping his chin down so he could kiss her, warm and friendly and a little bit more. "You ready to go to bed?"

Andy smirked but then arched her back and pushed herself off of him. "You gonna show me some of that incredible skill?" she asked, holding her hand out.

Sam stood and laced his fingers with hers. "Something like that," he said, tugging her to his side.

Her hand instinctively glided around his waist, cold fingers skimming beneath his shirt, and she sighed contentedly when he tucked her under his arm.

Sam pressed a kiss against her temple and pulled her a little closer.


	21. Epilogue

_**Author's**** Note: **__And a million years later, here it is! Again, thank you all so much the kind words and encouragement you've given me throughout this story. It was such a pleasure to write and I am so sad to see it come to an end. _

_You'll see that this story is made of a series of flashbacks - the main story is Lindsey's POV but the flashbacks are mostly Sam and Andy's POV. It should be pretty easy to figure that out but I just didn't want to confuse anyone! _

_**Disclaimer**_: _I do not own Rookie Blue. _

* * *

><p>"Goodnight moon, goodnight cow jumping over the moon, goodnight light and red balloon, goodnight bears, goodnight chairs, goodnight kittens, goodnight mittens, goodnight clocks and goodnight socks," Lindsey paused reading to look down at the baby in her lap. "This is a really dumb book," she said. The little boy just grinned up at her and clapped his chubby little hands together, making Lindsey laugh. "But you don't care, do you?"<p>

The little boy giggled some more and then snuggled back down against her chest, slapping his hand against the book.

"Okay, okay," Lindsey said, starting to rock in the chair again and picking up where she left off, reading quietly, "Goodnight comb and goodnight brush, goodnight nobody, goodnight mush, and goodnight to the old lady whispering 'hush', goodnight stars, goodnight air, goodnight noises everywhere. The end."

The little boy made some noise that kind of sounded like he was repeating, "The end."

"That's right Will, the end," she said, pressing a kiss against his dark, downy soft baby hair. "And that means it's time for you to go to sleep."

She didn't get up right away to put him in his crib, she just rearranged Will so that he was lying on her chest and continued rocking him to sleep, pushing off the floor with the very tips of her toes. Since she'd gone off to university she rarely got to snuggle with him so when she came home she tried to get in as much time as she could.

Not that she would tell her aunt and uncle that.

It was better if they thought she was still squeamish about the whole idea of babies and diapers and burp cloths and in general, she was. Other people's kids were noisy and messy and slobbery and she had very little patience for them, but as far as she was concerned, her little cousins could do no wrong.

Especially when they had just gotten out of the bath and were warm and clean and had that sweet baby smell, cuddled right up against her and half asleep – especially then.

When she looked down she could see Will's long eyelashes fluttering against the soft skin of his cheek. One of his warm, fat, baby hands had landed on her shoulder and he fiddled with the neckline of her shirt as he nodded off. She could feel the way his little body slumped against her and eventually she heard his soft snores in her ear.

Careful not to wake him, she gently lifted him and settled him into his crib, covering him with his blanket and putting his favorite stuffed animal – a dog with big floppy ears that was beginning to show the signs of wear and love – next to him. Instinctively Will reached out and tucked the dog under his arm.

Lindsey patted Will on his diaper-covered bottom until she was certain that he had fallen asleep. She turned on his lullaby bear and as soft music filtered through the room she switched off the lamp on his dresser and made her way out, taking the monitor with her.

She padded down the hallway, her footsteps dulled by the thick carpet her uncle had put in for just that reason, and pushed open the door on the far end; Ben, her four-year-old cousin, sat in the middle of his room in his superman footie pajamas, playing quietly with his train set.

He didn't notice her right away so she watched him for a second before making her presence known. He was a spitting image of his dad – skinny with dark thick hair and dark eyes that twinkled when he laughed and little dimples that dented his cheeks when he grinned. Lindsey had asked her aunt once if it bothered her that Ben didn't look more like her side of the family. Her aunt just shrugged and said with a wicked grin, "Your uncle's pretty smoking hot. Kid's lucky to look like him." Lindsey cringed and rolled her eyes. "'Course," her aunt continued, letting out a resigned sigh and looking down at her son, "At some point we're gonna have to do something about that unibrow."

In many ways Ben acted just like his dad, too – he was quiet and serious and could play by himself for hours without a problem. In other ways he was more like his mom – he loved to be outdoors and when he did talk to someone, he liked to scramble right up into their lap and hold their face in his little clammy hands.

"Hey buddy," Lindsey said, tapping lightly on his door. "Did you pick out a book?"

The little boy looked up her and nodded, pointing to a large canvas-covered photo album on his bed.

Ben was just starting to figure out that his parents and Lindsey had been around before he was alive; when she came home from school one weekend last month he'd asked her probably half a dozen times if she remembered when he'd been born and when she said yes he'd gotten this contemplative look on his face, his brow furrowing just like his dad, as he tried to out it all together.

("He found your photo album," her aunt told her before they left, rolling her eyes with mock exasperation. "We've gone through it twice a day for last couple of weeks, so get ready for that.")

"You want to look at the pictures?" Lindsey asked, moving into the room.

Ben just nodded, climbing up onto his bed.

"Alright," Lindsey said, lifting the heavy book and pushing back the blue striped sheets so Ben could crawl beneath. She set his pillows up against the headboard and then dropped down beside him. Ben pulled the covers back up over their legs and then curled against her side as she draped one arm around him and opened the album across their laps. "Where do you want to start?" she asked, flipping through the pages.

"The beginning," he answered, his words slightly warbled because he was still having trouble with his consonants. "Christmas."

("That's from you," her uncle told her aunt one time after trying to get Ben to say _Toronto_. Her aunt scoffed, "Whatever, you just didn't talk 'til you were five.")

"Okay," Lindsey said, turning to the very first page of the book and the very first picture she had taken. Andy and Sam grinned back at them from the picture – Andy's grin wide and bright and Sam's slightly more subdued. His hand was lost somewhere in Andy's hair

"This is the very first Christmas your parents and I spent together," she told her cousin, tracing the Christmas tree in the background with her finger. "Right after I came to live with your uncle."

"Because your mommy died?" Ben asked.

Lindsey sucked in a breath and then nodded, "Yeah buddy, because my mommy died."

* * *

><p><em>At first they hadn't tried to explain how everyone was related to Ben but one day when they were all sitting around the dinner table he asked out of the blue, "Is Lindsey my sister?"<em>

_Andy looked up from spooning cereal into Will's mouth and she and Sam glanced at one another and then over at Lindsey, a silent conversation taking place and a decision made. "No buddy," Sam said eventually, slowly explaining, "Lindsey's your cousin and her mommy was my sister. But Lindsey's part of our family just like you are and just like Will is and your mommy and I love her just like we love you guys." _

_Ben nodded thoughtfully and stabbed his plastic fork into a mound of macaroni and cheese. He took a bite, chewing carefully and after he swallowed he asked, "Where is Lindsey's mommy?"_

"_Lindsey's mommy died, sweetie," Andy told him gently. "You know how Grandpa went to heaven?" Ben nodded. "Well, Lindsey's mommy is there with him." _

"_Oh," Ben said sadly, his thin shoulders slumping and his forehead wrinkling. He looked over at Lindsey and told her sincerely, "I'm sorry Lindsey." _

_Lindsey smiled a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thanks buddy." _

_Giant crocodile tears welled up in his eyes and his chin quivered as he looked back over at Andy. "Are you going to die, mommy?"_

"_Oh, sweetie," Andy said, quickly standing up to round the table and wrap her arms around her distressed son. "I'm not going anywhere." _

_Lindsey noticed she didn't answer the question, not really._

* * *

><p>Ben seemed to accept Lindsey's answer and moved on without another comment about it, flipping the page over. The next couple of pages were a series of pictures from the day after Christmas, when Sam had taken Lindsey to the lake to play around with her new camera. There were a few of Sam walking around, kicking rocks with his hands shoved into his pockets – it had been a bitterly cold day – but Lindsey's favorite was one where she had been trying out the auto timer and had set the camera up on a picnic table. Neither had been ready when the times went off and in the picture Sam was staring at the camera with a confused expression on his face, eyes squinted and creased around the edges and mouth hanging half open, and Lindsey was laughing and rolling her eyes at him.<p>

Lindsey thought it captured their relationship at that point perfectly.

"That's the picture on Daddy's desk," Ben said, pointing at the next picture. That was one they had been ready for – Sam's arm was slung around Lindsey's shoulder and her arm was around his waist and they were both grinning broadly into the camera. Later, when Lindsey had been going back through her pictures, she'd printed three copies out and framed one for him for Valentine's Day. It sat on his desk at work. Her copy was on her bulletin board at school.

"Yep, it is," Lindsey said.

"And this one," Ben said, pointing at a picture of Andy holding a large moving box, grinning broadly, "Is when mommy moved in with you and daddy."

* * *

><p><em>They had a fight or something, Lindsey wasn't sure. She just knew that one day Andy was there and the next day she wasn't and her uncle was making up lame excuses about it. "She's just catching some extra shifts," he told her one night, a few days in to Andy's mysterious absence from their lives. "Everything's fine."<em>

_Later that night, long after she was supposed to have gone to bed, she snuck downstairs for a snack. There was a glow coming from the living room so instead of ducking into the kitchen she plodded down the hallway and found her uncle sitting on the couch, legs stretched out on the coffee table. A blanket was thrown haphazardly over his lap and he was absently twirling a glass of brown liquid in his hand. _

_He didn't notice her standing there; it appeared that he was super interested in the show that he was watching, some late night infomercial about a fancy blender that could probably liquefy steel. His eyes were fixed on the television and kind of glossed over, like he had been forgetting to blink. _

_Lindsey cleared her throat to get his attention. _

_She had to do it again before he finally looked up. _

"_Oh, hey," he said, tiredly scrubbing a hand over his face and blinking rapidly. He set his drink down. "What are you doing awake?" _

"_Just wanted a snack," Lindsey answered, crossing her arms and not moving from her spot. "Why are you still up?"_

_Her uncle shrugged and in the light reflecting from the television, he suddenly looked much, much older. "Just awake." _

_He could make up all the excuses in the world – something was going on, something that drained all the color from his face and deepened the wrinkles around his eyes. Lindsey tilted her head towards the kitchen. "I'm gonna make some popcorn, you want any?" _

"_You're supposed to be asleep," he reminded her. Then, not giving her the chance to reply or argue her case, suddenly agreed, "Yeah, I'll take some." _

_Lindsey nodded and pushed herself off the wall, "Be right back." _

_When she returned three minutes later she plopped down beside him on the couch and set the bowl of popcorn in between them. _

_A new infomercial came on, this time one about designer Snuggies. _

_Andy had gotten them all Snuggies one night when Sam had been out "doing a favor for a friend". At least, that was how it was pitched to Lindsey. She doubted very seriously that it was some innocent favor, what with how anxious and fidgety Andy had been the entire night, clutching her phone in her hand like a lifeline. _

"_It's a blanket with arms," Andy told them when the package arrived, pulling the material out of the box. "I'm not really sure why you both think you're too cool for it." _

_She even bought a dog one, just in case. _

_Sam quickly switched the channel over to an infomercial for the Magic Bullet._

_They watched in silence, each taking fistfuls of popcorn and popping the kernels one by one into their mouths. Lindsey hazarded glances over at her uncle occasionally but he was blankly staring at the TV. On screen, the sales people were making salsa in three seconds. _

_Finally, when she couldn't take it anymore, Lindsey asked, "So, you guys break up or something?" _

_He tensed immediately but then he visibly forced himself to relax and adopted and easy tone. "We didn't break up," he answered, digging into the popcorn bowl and lifting an entire handful to his mouth. _

_Lindsey studied him carefully, watching for any tells. The twitch of his jaw muscle before he began chewing was a good one. "But you are in a fight?" she prodded. _

_Sam cut his eyes over to her. "We had a disagreement," he admitted. _

"_Adult speak for fight," Lindsey muttered, turning her attention back to the TV. A moment passed and then she asked, keeping her eyes glued in front of her, "You okay?" _

_Her uncle was quiet for a second and then she heard him swallow, making a harsh noise in the back of his throat. "Yeah," he said, "It'll be fine. She's just taking some time." _

_She nodded even though she didn't really believe him. The popcorn bowl was empty so she leaned forward and set it on the coffee table before scooting over to her uncle, close enough that their shoulders bumped together. _

_He looked over at her, eyebrows raised. They weren't exactly affectionate – a quick hug here and there – and the instinctiveness of the gesture surprised Lindsey herself. Sam waited half a beat and then lifted his arm across the back of the couch, letting her settle in against him. _

_It reminded her of when she was little and would ask him to watch a Disney movie with her. He protested every single time, but every single time he let her put one in and then scramble into his lap to watch it. _

"_You should just ask her to move in for real," Lindsey advised, curling her legs up and pulling the blanket over her. Andy practically lived with them anyway – until that week Lindsey couldn't remember a day that had gone by when Andy hadn't been there. She yawned and rested her head on his shoulder. "That way she can't just leave whenever you two fight." _

_Sam let out a sad snort of laughter, ruffling her hair. "I wish it worked that way, kid." _

_Lindsey just shrugged. "You never know."_

* * *

><p>Apparently it <em>did <em>work that way, because two days later Andy was back and three days after that they were moving some of her things into the house and loading the truck up with the rest of her stuff to be put in storage.

Lindsey was pretty sure her stuff was still sitting there, even though they'd moved houses when Ben was born.

"Why is mommy crying?" Ben asked, looking down at another series of pictures.

Lindsey grinned, recognizing the set immediately. Andy was sitting on the sofa, crossed legged with her hands over her mouth and tears in her eyes. "Those are happy tears. That's when your daddy asked your mommy to marry him," she told him.

* * *

><p><em>He would have done it differently if it had been just him and Andy. He wasn't sure what he would have done – maybe taken her away, gotten down on one knee in the middle of the woods or somewhere overlooking the city – either way, it would have been different.<em>

_But then he took Lindsey with him to pick out the ring and she spent the whole car ride there and back chatting his ear off about different ways he could propose, all of which gave her some role in the event. At some point between leaving the house and coming back, he pushed all of his vaguely defined ideas into the back of his head and started brainstorming with her. As long as the end result was the same, Andy saying __**yes, **__he figured it didn't really matter how it happened. _

_Three weeks later, after Lindsey gave him a convincing "man up" eye roll at dinner the night before, Sam caught his niece's eye across the living room and nodded towards the stairs, putting the plan into motion. _

_Lindsey hopped off the couch and scrambled towards to her room, unsuccessfully trying to tamp down a grin. _

_He had just been waiting for the right time, really, and between long shifts at work and Luke and Jo's recent engagement the opportune moment hadn't exactly presented itself. _

"_Please don't ask me to marry you anytime soon," she had murmured quietly to him as they took their seats for parade the day the wedding invitation appeared on the bulletin board. Jo wasn't one for conventional etiquette apparently. "It would look petty." _

_Sam couldn't have cared less how it would look. "What makes you think I'm going to ask you to marry me?" he shot back, just as quietly. _

"_Oh please," she said, rolling her eyes with confidence he wasn't sure she was faking. "I should have made you give me a ring before I moved in with you." _

_Sam snorted at that. "Don't like living in sin?" _

"_Don't like living in sin right in front of your niece," she clarified, taking a long sip of her coffee. "We're both probably going to hell."_

_He hummed in response. "Probably." _

_Best called for their attention then and they both turned in their chairs and looked forward. A couple of minutes passed, Best detailing a homicide that had taken place the previous night, before Sam felt Andy's sharp elbow dig into his side. "Wanna know what I'd say?" _

_He glanced over at her but she refused to meet his eye, keeping her gaze trained ahead. The corners of her mouth were twitching upwards. "I don't know," he replied slowly, trying to keep his voice even. "Do I?" _

_Andy just shrugged, her lips sliding into a full, toothy grin. "Guess you'll have to ask." _

_They had talked about it other times, of course, mostly in vague or teasing terms, and Sam was about ninety eight percent certain that they were on the same page. Still, his heart rate sped up and his hands got a little damp when he thought about actually asking her. _

_He didn't have time to get nervous though, because in no time he could hear Lindsey bounding back down the stairs. "Hey Andy, you want to see my photography project?" she asked, coming into the room. She was playing it cool, like it was just any other homework assignment, but Sam could read the excitement under her nonchalant question. He hoped that if Andy picked up on it she would just pass it off as nervousness or anxiety about the project, nothing else. _

_Andy, who had been sprawled out on the sofa with one hand absentmindedly reaching into the bag of chips sitting on the ground, quickly licked the Dorito crumbs from her fingers and sat up. "Yeah, of course," she said, crossing her legs so her bony knees stuck out to the sides and patting the spot beside her. "You've been talking about this thing for weeks now, I can't wait to see it." _

_Lindsey plopped down and handed over the portfolio she had put together. It really was for a project at school. Or, at least, part of it was. _

"_Have you seen it yet?" Andy asked Sam, opening the cover of the book. _

"_Yeah," he said, watching intently as she slowly flipped through the pages. "Lindsey showed it to me the other night."_

_Andy nodded silently in response, not even bothering to look up at him. "Lindsey, these are really beautiful," she eventually muttered, sliding her finger across the edge of a page. Each photo showed a close up of an object in their house, some more abstract than others. As pages progressed a larger image was taking shape made from the photos being layered together – Andy already knew it was all going to come together to look like the front of the house, she'd seen Lindsey wrestling with how to make it work for almost a month, but seeing it actually happening was really, really impressive. _

_The second to last page was an actual photo of the house, saturated with color while all the rest had been in black and white. "This is really great," Andy said, taking her eyes off the book and smiling over at Lindsey. _

_Sam found himself holding his breath as she casually turned to the last page. She wasn't looking when she did it – she was distracted and still talking to Lindsey – and when she finally did look down it took her a moment to make sense of the image._

_It showed a glistening ring sitting on the porch railing, the sunlight reflecting off the diamond and causing a lens flare to stretch across the photograph. _

_Her forehead wrinkled and Sam watched as different emotions flickered across her face; confusion, realization, excitement, nervousness…"Oh," she breathed, her eyes widening. She was quiet, staring at the picture for a moment. When she finally looked up, Sam was holding the real thing. _

_He asked her again later that night, when it was just the two of them and she was flat on her back, legs wrapped around him and hands clasped together above her head. Her eyes had drifted shut and when he stilled they flew open again, bright and wide, meeting his in the darkness. _

_When he didn't say anything right away her eyebrows drew together and she started fidgeting impatiently beneath him. "Sam…" she whined, half whimpering, half laughing. "C'mon." _

_He dropped down to his elbows and the added weight made her stop squirming around. He waited until she was perfectly still and then leaned down, nudging her nose with his. "Marry me," he whispered, his voice hoarse, not sure if he was asking or telling or just… wanting hear her say yes again. _

_Probably it was all of those things. _

_Andy's face broke into a wide smile. "Okay," she whispered back. She tightened her grip on his hand and the ring dug into his finger._

* * *

><p>The wedding had been exactly what Lindsey expected from her aunt and uncle – small but full of warmth and love. Lindsey and Traci were the bridesmaids and Oliver and Jerry were the groomsmen. Sam got choked up when Tommy walked Andy down the aisle.<p>

Lindsey didn't actually understand marriage, couldn't imagine saying _yes _to one person and committing to be with them for the rest of your life, but every time she looked at pictures from the wedding she found herself wanting it. Wanting to meet someone that made her as happy as her aunt made her uncle.

"Pretty dress," Ben whispered, looking at a picture of Andy in her wedding dress.

Lindsey nodded. "Your mommy was beautiful."

"You look pretty, too," Ben told her, flipping over to the next page. "Like a princess."

"Well thanks, buddy," Lindsey said, laughing as she wondered what movies he'd been watching and if her uncle knew about it.

"Who's the guy with the funny robe?" Ben asked, already moving on.

"Ah," Lindsey said, "That's the judge that let your mommy adopt me." The picture showed Sam, Andy and Lindsey with the judge. Lindsey was holding her certificate of adoption.

"What does _that _mean?"

Lindsey thought about it for a second before answering, "It means that even though your mommy isn't really my mommy, she promised to take care of me like she was."

* * *

><p><em>The first time she brought it up, he brushed her off.<em>

_They were on their way home from a funeral – an officer from fifty-one that Sam had gone through the academy with – and she was, understandably, shaken. The guy had a wife and three kids and one on the way and had been shot during a routine traffic stop. "Sam," she said, brushing out the wrinkles in her skirt, "If something happens to you, what's going to happen to Lindsey?"_

_Sam flicked his dark eyes over at her, considering, and then looked back to the road. "Nothing's going to happen to me," he said firmly. _

"_You don't know that, we both have dangerous…" Andy tried to argue, but he cut her off. _

"_Nothing's going to happen," he repeated, in a tone that told her to leave it alone. "You don't need to worry about it." _

_They hadn't been married at the time, so there really wasn't anything that Andy __**could **__do, legally at least. She didn't bring it up again until they had been married for almost a year. _

"_We have to talk about this," she told him late one night. Her hands were folded over her chest and she was and staring at their bedroom ceiling. Earlier that afternoon they'd watched Children's Aid take two little girls into foster care after their mother had been killed during an attempted car jacking._

_Sam groaned and rubbed at his eyes. "Andy, she's going to be eighteen in three years…" _

"_A lot can happen between now and then," Andy insisted, propping herself up on her elbow. "If, God forbid, something happened to you they could take her away from me. I mean, I know we're married but I'm not her mom, I don't really have any rights here." She paused for a beat. "I know you don't even want to consider it, but we need to. I need you to." _

"_It's in my will that you'd be her guardian," Sam told her. "You know that." _

_Andy rolled her eyes, "Yeah, but you know how easily that can be contested. What if her birth dad found out and wanted her back? Or what if we have other kids and the courts decide I can't handle it?" _

_He was quiet for a moment and then let out a heavy sigh and dropped his head to the side to look at her. "So, what're you suggesting?" _

"_Adoption," Andy said. "I've looked it up and since we're relatives it shouldn't be too hard. Of course, it is _kind of_ expensive but I think that we can swing it."_

_Sam blinked, staring at her in surprise. "You want to adopt Lindsey?" he asked slowly, punctuating each word like he had to think about them, like he'd never even considered the idea before. _

_Andy's brow furrowed. "Yeah," she said, "I mean… As long as Lindsey's okay with it. I haven't said anything to her because I wanted to talk to you first, but because she's over twelve she has to give her consent and agree to be interviewed." _

"_I don't even know…" he paused and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm not sure how she's going to feel about it." _

"_I know it's complicated," Andy acknowledged, "And I've thought a lot about it because I don't want her to think I'm trying to replace her mom or anything like that – I just… I want to know that she will be taken care of, and adopting her would make sure of that." _

"_It does make sense," Sam agreed. _

_There was a stretch of silence and Andy could practically see the wheels turning in Sam's brain as he thought it over. "Do you think Sarah would be okay with it?" she asked quietly. Sarah was still the elephant in the room that Andy hesitated to bring up; it was ironic, really, how greatly their lives were affected by the woman but how little they actually talked about her. _

_Sam pressed his lips together and after a moment replied evenly, "I think she'd want Lindsey to be with someone that loved her." _

"_Well, then I guess we can talk to Lindsey about it, unless…" she hesitated. "I mean, unless you're not okay with it." _

"_No," he said, sitting up quickly, "Of course I'm okay with it, I just never thought that you'd…" he broke off, waving a hand in the air. _

"_That I'd want to?" Andy supplied. _

"_Well," Sam admitted, staring at her hard like he was gauging her sincerity. "Yeah. It's just… it's a big responsibility." _

_Andy pursed her lips and gave him a look that was somewhere between irritation and pity. "Sam," she said, sitting up and pulling the sheet with her, "How long have we been together?" _

_He scratched the back of his neck, thinking. "Three years, about." _

"_Three years," she repeated, "And you're still acting like Lindsey's a burden I didn't readily sign up for." She smiled at him reassuringly and he smiled back, a twisted half grin he got whenever he liked the idea of something but was still unsure about it. She reached across the bed and put her hand over his. "I want to. I _really, really _want to." _

_His smile evened out._

* * *

><p>"Blue for boy," Ben said, pointing at a new picture that showed cupcakes covered with blue frosting.<p>

"Yep," Lindsey replied, "That's when we found out that you were going to be a boy. Your mommy made blue cupcakes for everyone."

Ben wrinkled his nose. "Mommy made them?"

"Uh huh," Lindsey confirmed.

He looked puzzled for a second and then looked up at her, asking seriously, "Did they taste good?"

Lindsey let out a burst of laughter. Even at his young age he knew who the cook in the family was. "They were delicious," she informed him.

* * *

><p><em>It took five months to get pregnant with Ben, which in the long run really wasn't that much time but Andy had never been very good about waiting. When she had decided she was ready, she had been ready for it to happen <em>right then _and hadn't really considered that it might take a while._

_She tried not to worry, she really did, but that last negative test sent her straight to the internet to look up every tip she could find. "You've got to hold my legs up in the air," she told Sam a couple of weeks later, before he had even started breathing normally again. _

"_What?" he panted, chest still heaving. _

"_I'm serious," she said, lifting her legs, "It's supposed to like… you know, help move things along." _

_He laughed at her for a full minute before obediently getting to his knees and circling her ankles with his fingers. He pulled her legs up and over his shoulders, still grinning despite the fact that she was pouting up at him. "This okay?" he asked, running his hands down her thighs._

_Andy blew the hair off her face, trying not to sound flustered. "Yeah, that's good." _

"_How long are you supposed to stay like this?" he asked, casually skating his calloused fingers over her stomach and down her sides, taking advantage of the helplessness of her position and tickling her. _

"_I don't know," she answered while she squirmed and slapped his hands away with a breathless giggle. "A few minutes." _

_His hands curled around her thighs and finally settled there. "Well," he said, looking down pointedly and then winking at her. "I've got to say, this is one helluva view." _

"_Shut up," she demanded and then, because she couldn't help it and because he was grinning at her and because the whole thing was just kind of absurd, she burst into laughter. "I know this is stupid…" _

"_No, hey," he interrupted her, squeezing her leg and then reaching down to take her hand, interlocking their fingers in a tight grip, "We're making a baby, right? It's not stupid." _

_She found out a few weeks later – her period was a couple of days late and she was so jittery that Traci made her take a test right in the middle of their shift. For a fleeting moment after the second line darkened Andy thought she was going to throw up right then and there and it had nothing to do with morning sickness – just sheer panic as the reality of it, of a _baby_ actually growing inside of her, set in in. Then, a fraction of a second later, relief washed over her and she felt more elated than she could ever remember feeling in her entire life. _

_Somehow, someway, she made it through the rest of her shift. She didn't even bother showering before heading home and was more than a little disappointed that the house was dark and quiet when she got there. _

_Making her way quietly down the hall and into their room, she found Sam propped up against the headboard, sound asleep and snoring softly, a quiet, reassuring hum that echoed throughout the space. It looked like he had tried to wait up for her – the lamp next to the bed was still on and there was a file opened on his chest - but just hadn't been able to. Andy sighed and let her eyes sweep over him, reading glasses still on and mouth hanging open just slightly. The nervous excitement she felt, like she'd had nine cups of coffee without anything to eat – straight caffeine surging through her veins, was a stark contrast to his calm and peaceful sleeping form. _

_She lifted the file off of him and gave it a cursory glance, knowing what she was probably going to find._

_Just as she suspected, it was his notes from the undercover operation targeting Anton Hill. _

_Hill had been arrested in Ottawa three weeks earlier after a minor traffic violation exploded into much larger and more serious charges, including trafficking of drugs and persons, fraud and tax evasion. It was turning into one of the most extensive cases to be tried in a quite some time and the prosecutors' office was working closely with Toronto's Guns and Gangs division, and specifically Sam, to put their case together. _

_Andy laid the notes on the nightstand and turned off the lamp before slipping her clothes off and climbing into the bed next to him. She slid underneath the covers and scooted up close him. Instinctively he curled his body around her's and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against his chest while grumbling something she couldn't make out. His body was warm and familiar and she tucked herself closer, threading one of her legs between his. _

_She debated waking him up, knowing that he would absolutely want to know but also knowing that she would be just as pregnant in the morning and could tell him then. It was impossible to go to sleep – her thoughts were racing a million miles an hour and no matter how many times she tried to count backwards from one hundred her mind kept drifting back to the fact that she was pregnant. _

_Pregnant__**. **_

_With a baby. __**Their **__baby. _

_She still couldn't wrap her mind around it. _

_A few moments passed, it could have been a couple of minutes or it might have been an hour, and Andy felt Sam move behind her. _

"_Hey," she whispered hopefully, just loud enough for him to hear if he had woken up. _

_His grip tightened around her and when he answered his voice was sleepy and scratchy, "Hey." _

"_Did I wake you up?" she asked, trailing her fingers over the arm settled at her waist. _

_She felt him shake his head and he dropped a kiss on her shoulder. "No," he said, starting to fiddle with the strap of her tank top. Andy smiled into the darkness as he pushed it down her arm._

"_Did you have a good day?" she forced herself to ask. _

_He hummed noncommittally, brushing her hair out of the way so he could press his lips against the back of her neck. "You?" _

_She grinned, about ready to burst and thankful that he couldn't see her face. "Yeah, it was good."_

"_Good," he echoed, sliding his hand down the side of her body and settling it over her stomach, fingers dipping below the waistband her underwear. _

"_I'm pregnant," she blurted out, unable to hold it in any longer. _

_It came out a lot faster than she meant for it to. Behind her, he went absolutely still and silent as he absorbed what she said. _

_So silent, in fact, that after a couple of seconds she flipped over so she could face him and asked, "Did you hear me?" His face was bathed in orange light filtering in from the street and he was staring at her with a look that she'd never seen before – "Sam?" _

_He pushed himself up on his elbow and Andy shifted beneath him so that she could get both hands on the sides of his face and smooth her thumbs of his stubbly jaw. His lips were beginning to twitch with a slow smile and his eyes were starting to twinkle. Happy, she recognized. He was definitely happy. "Yeah?" _

_Andy nodded, feeling excitement bubble in her stomach, "Yeah." _

_Sam looked down at his hand and spread his fingers out experimentally, covering her whole belly with a kind of reverence that made her dizzy. She could feel a flush creeping up her neck and she sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly ridiculously nervous about what he was going to say. When he finally looked back up at her his entire face had lit up with an incredible full smile, eyes squinting and cheeks dimpling, and he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. _

"_What?" she asked, starting giggling along with him even though she wasn't sure why either of them were laughing. _

"_Legs in the air, I can't even…" _

"_Hey," she protested, tugging on his hair, "It worked, didn't it?" _

_Sam was still shaking his head when he carefully lowered himself down and brushed his lips against hers, soft and friendly. "I love you," he murmured, his eyes open and honest. _

_Andy grinned up at him so broadly that she thought her cheeks were going to split. "You better, since I'm going to be the mother of your child and all." _

_She didn't think that it was possible for him to smile any harder than he had been two seconds before. _

_Turned out, she was wrong._

* * *

><p>"And that's when I was in mommy's belly," Ben said, giggling as he looked at a series of maternity pictures Lindsey had taken for Andy.<p>

"You were," Lindsey told him. "I remember the first time I felt you move in there."

Ben's eyes widened, "You do?"

"Mmmhmm," she said, nodding her head. "You kicked my hand like it was a soccer ball. It was the day I took these pictures."

"You remember that?"

Lindsey remembered, but not necessarily because it was the first time she felt Ben move. The night before the pictures were taken had been the first and only time that Lindsey had pulled the "you're not my mother" card during an argument with Andy. She still cringed just thinking about how much of a brat she'd been.

* * *

><p><em>Sam was gone – Anton Hill's trial had finally started up and he'd been called up to testify on a Friday and ended up having to stay through the weekend to finish up on Monday. He had known that having to stay was a possibility but that didn't help the mood he'd been in when he called Andy to tell her he wouldn't be coming home. She knew, why he was irritated; she was eight months pregnant and he didn't want to be five hours away in case something happened, she'd barely convinced him to go in the first place, but of course he wasn't going to admit that was the issue. Instead, he grumbled about the collective and individual incompetence of every single person involved with the trial.<em>

_When she was able to get a word in, Andy assured him that she and Lindsey could manage a weekend alone just fine. _

_Then she hung up the phone and cried for ten minutes. _

_Once she pulled herself together she went to Lindsey's room to tell her. _

_Lindsey was getting ready for a party she was going to later that night – Sam had given her permission to go before he'd left and Andy was fairly certain he'd been distracted when she'd asked. _

_Andy pushed open the cracked door and leaned against the frame. Lindsey had been digging through her closet and she jumped when Andy called out, "Hey." _

"_Don't bother knocking," Lindsey mumbled under her breath, head still buried in the mess of clothes on her floor. _

_Andy barely refrained from rolling her eyes. Lindsey had been… challenging lately. Andy understood, she really did, she'd definitely had her moments when she was Lindsey's age and she hadn't been dealing with a new baby on the way that was getting ready to disrupt everything that had become _normal _in the last couple of years. _

_Instead of responding, Andy entered the room and made herself comfortable on the bed. Lindsey looked up and eyed her warily but in the end didn't say anything. _

"_You're uncle's not coming home tonight," Andy told her, settling back against the mass of pillows at the head of the bed, "He's stuck in Ottawa 'til Monday." _

"'_Kay," Lindsey answered distractedly. She pulled a sweater off of a hanger and held it in front of her, looking in the mirror. _

"_That's pretty," Andy offered, even though Lindsey hadn't asked her opinion._

_Lindsey made a face and threw the sweater on the bed. "It makes me look like I'm a flat-chested twelve year old." _

_It didn't, but Andy wasn't going to argue with her. "Okay," she replied slowly, watching as Lindsey pulled a couple more sweaters out of her closet and quickly disregarded them as well. The girl kept shooting glares over at her and Andy knew she wanted her to leave, but she had just gotten comfortable and hauling herself up off a bed wasn't the easiest thing to do any more, so she ignored the pointed looks and stayed where she was. _

_Lindsey's purse was on the bed near Andy's knee and something inside caught her eye. She used her foot to push the purse up so she could get a better look. _

"_What the hell are these?" Andy asked, pulling out a small sample box of condoms. _

_Lindsey quickly whipped her head around and when she saw what Andy was holding her eyes went wide at first and then they narrowed into outraged slits. She crossed the room and filched the box out of Andy's hand. "Condoms," she snapped, shoving them back into her purse. "Not everyone wants to get knocked up." _

_Andy's eyebrows shot up at the jab but she tried to force herself to remain calm. "Are you having sex?" _

"_What do you care?" Lindsey asked, tucking her hair behind her ears in a way that made her seem very, very young. _

_Andy was careful to keep the bite out of her tone. "Well," she said evenly, setting her jaw. "You're only sixteen."_

"_Oh please," Lindsey snorted, yanking a top over her head, "Plenty of kids my age are doing it." _

"_I don't care about what other kids are doing," And told her genuinely. "I care about you." _

_Lindsey just huffed a laugh as she circled a scarf around her neck. "Oh, okay." _

_Andy felt a prickle go up her spine. "Lindsey," she said, lowering her voice, "I don't want you to get hurt." _

_Lindsey swung around and faced Andy straight on, like a standoff. "Well, I've already done it," she admitted, no emotion whatsoever. "So you don't have to worry about that." _

_Andy blinked, trying not to let the surprise and disappointment show on her face. She took a deep breath and asked, "Was it James?" _

_James was, or had been – Andy was fairly certain they had broken up – Lindsey's boyfriend. _

_Sam _hated_ him. _

_The muscle in Lindsey's jaw jumped as she clenched her teeth. "Yes." _

"_When?" _

"_Couple of weeks ago," Lindsey answered, folding her arms in front of her chest. _

_Andy nodded slowly, processing the information. "I thought that you guys broke up?" _

"_We did. After."_

"_Did he, um…" Never in her life had Andy felt more at lost for words, "Did he make you?" _

_Lindsey rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, like Andy was honestly the stupidest person she'd ever met. "No he didn't make me." _

_Andy swallowed hard, relieved. "Okay, good," she said. "That's good. So, if you're broken up… what are the condoms for?" _

_Lindsey actually smirked. "Well, there is a party tonight." _

"_And you're going to do what?" Andy asked. "Hook up with some random stranger?" _

"_It's not that big of a deal," Lindsey argued, teenage stubbornness mixed with desperately wanting to sound nonchalant about something that, at her age, was anything but casual. _

"_It IS a big deal, Lindsey," Andy said, unable to keep her voice from rising. "It's a big deal. Just because you have sex one time does not mean that it is not a big deal…" _

"_Why do you care?" Lindsey yelled back, matching Andy's volume. "Just stay here and read your stupid baby books and don't even worry about what I'm doing."_

_Andy exhaled sharply. She _knew _that Lindsey was upset about the baby but could never get the girl to talk about it, it had just been simmering beneath the surface. "You are not going to that party." _

_Lindsey grabbed her purse off the bed. "Uncle Sam already said I could." _

"_Oh," Andy shot back, "And you think if he knew what you were planning to do he would just let you go?" _

"_What are you going to do?" Lindsey challenged. "Call him?" _

_Andy knew that Sam would absolutely, unequivocally lose his shit, which would probably just make the entire situation worse. She pushed herself up off the bed, no small feat when you're carrying around thirty extra pounds, and stood in front of Lindsey. She schooled her expression into a stern copper stare. "Your uncle isn't here and I'm telling you, you cannot go." _

_Lindsey huffed and fixed Andy with a withering glare. "Well, you're not my mother," she replied coldly, "And I don't have to listen to you." _

_Before Andy could reply Lindsey darted around her and left the room. Andy stood frozen in her spot and when she heard the front door slam shut she closed her eyes with it, totally defeated. _

_Three hours later the phone rang and Lindsey's meek, slurred voice asked Andy if she could come pick her up. Andy quickly jotted down the address and pulled her coat around her big belly and climbed into the truck. _

_Lindsey was, as Andy knew she would be, almost completely out of it when she got to the party. Hannah Shaw helped her out to the truck. "Do you need a ride home, Hannah?" Andy asked, strapping the seatbelt across Lindsey's waist. _

"_No," Hannah answered, rambling nervously, "I've got my mom's car and I'm totally sober, I promise, I haven't had anything other than soda. I don't drink and normally Lindsey doesn't either, I don't know what got into her tonight and I am so, so sorry…" _

_Andy was right next to the girl and didn't smell even a trace of alcohol on her breath. She put a hand on her arm, stopping her. "It's not your fault, Lindsey's not your responsibility," Andy said. "Just go home, okay?" _

_Hannah nodded and shot a worried glance at Lindsey who was slumped against the center console. "Is she going to be okay?" _

_Andy sighed and looked at her niece. "Yeah," she said after a moment, slamming the door shut. "She's going to be fine." _

_The next morning Andy woke Lindsey up with a glass of water and a mug of coffee. _

_Lindsey groaned and pulled a pillow over her head. _

"_Wake up, kid," Andy said, scooting onto the bed beside her. "It's almost noon." _

_Lindsey just groaned again. _

"_How do you feel?" Andy asked, pulling the pillow off her head. Her face was pale and her hair was damp with sweat. _

"_Like I'm going to die," Lindsey answered, licking her dry lips. "Hurl first and then die." _

"_Oh, yeah, well… that's what happens," Andy replied unsympathetically. "Which do you want first?" she asked, gesturing to the beverages. _

"_Water," Lindsey said, pushing herself up. She took hold of the cup with both hands and brought it to her lips, downing almost half of it in one long gulp. _

_Andy quirked an eyebrow, amused. "Thirsty?" _

_Lindsey drank some more in response. When she emptied the glass she handed it back to Andy, suddenly looking sheepish. "Are you, uh..." she pushed her hair off her face. "Are you going to tell Uncle Sam? About last night?" _

"_Well," Andy said, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully. "You know I told you that you could tell me anything, but I also promised your uncle that I'd tell him if I thought you were in trouble." _

"_I didn't have sex," Lindsey blurted out quickly, her cheeks flushing with color. "Last night or… you know, before. I haven't had it all." _

_Andy's forehead wrinkled and she jutted her chin out. "Huh," she breathed, trying not to sound too relieved. "Why did you say that you did?" _

_Lindsey brought her hands up to her face and let out a long sigh. "I was mad," she admitted, pressing her fingers to her eyes and shaking her head. "It was so stupid. Uncle Sam was supposed to take me driving and then he canceled at the last minute to go to one of those baby classes you guys have been going to and it just… it made me so mad." _

_Andy could understand – one thing they had tried to be very careful about was making sure Lindsey knew she was just as important to them as the baby was. "I'm sorry he did that," she said, "I didn't know that you guys had plans." _

"_Yeah, well," Lindsey shrugged and then admitted, "I went over to James' house while you guys were gone and we got like… really close but I stopped it and told him I wasn't ready and then a couple of days later he broke up with me." She sighed and dropped her head, mumbling miserably, "God, I'm like every bad after school special ever written." _

"_No, sweetie, you're not," Andy assured her, wrapping her arm around the girl. "I'm sorry." _

"_It's okay. Anyways, I thought that maybe I could get back at him for breaking up with me last night and make him jealous or something," Lindsey said, "But well, you know how that ended." _

"_I have to tell your uncle about the drinking," Andy told her, scrunching her nose. _

"_Yeah," Lindsey said, her shoulders dropping with acceptance. "I know. He's going to be so mad." _

_Andy nodded. "Yeah, probably." She waited a beat and then offered, "But I won't tell him about the other stuff on one condition." _

"_What's that?" Lindsey asked, ready to agree to just about anything._

_Andy turned so that she could look Lindsey in the eye. "When you are ready, you'll tell me." _

_Lindsey blushed, "Andy…"  
><em>

"_I'm serious Lindsey," Andy said. "My mom wasn't around when I needed someone to talk to and I don't want you to have to go through some of the same stuff I did. And, you know, what I said last night is true. Sex is a big deal and your first time IS a big deal, no matter what anyone else tells you and no matter how many other kids are doing it." _

"_I know it is," Lindsey said, smoothing out her blanket. _

"_And," Andy continued, "Your uncle would probably want you to think that all boys are horny idiots only after one thing, and while that is definitely true of some of them, it's not…" she paused and shook her head, "It's not true of all of them. And it is worth it, trust me it is worth it, to wait until you find someone that cares about _you._"_

"_I know," Lindsey nodded. _

_Andy caught her gaze and held it. "So do we have a deal?" _

_Lindsey's lips curled into small smile. "Deal," she said. _

"_Good," Andy nodded sharply. _

_They sat quietly for a moment until Lindsey eventually said, "I'm sorry about what I said to you last night – about you not being my mom." _

"_Well, I'm not your mom," Andy replied. It was still tricky figuring out exactly what their roles were. "And I know I'm not, but you still kind of have to do what I say." _

"_I know," Lindsey said, squinting up at her. "I'm sorry." _

_Andy smiled and combed her fingers through the girl's unruly curls. "It's okay. I forgive you." _

"_Am I in trouble?" _

"_Oh yeah," Andy said, drawing out the "oh" and nodding, "Big time." _

_Lindsey groaned and pulled her comforter up over her head. _

"_You're grounded for a month – no cell phone, no parties, no boys. Definitely no boys," _

_Lindsey sighed, knowing that if it were her uncle her punishment probably would have been worse. _

"_And," Andy wasn't finished. "You have to get dressed and take those stupid maternity pictures of me today so that your uncle won't be here to make fun of me." _

"_Okay," Lindsey said. "Can I drink my coffee first?" _

_Andy handed it over and Lindsey hummed a sound of appreciation before taking a sip. There was another stretch of silence – more comfortable this time - broken only when Andy gasped and put her hand on her stomach.  
><em>

"_What?" Lindsey asked, alarmed. _

"_Nothing," Andy said, wincing in discomfort, "He just kicked me, that's all." _

_Lindsey glanced down at Andy's belly and then back up at Andy. "Can I feel?" _

_Andy tried not to show her surprise – Lindsey had never once asked to feel the baby move and really, until that point, hadn't shown much interest in the baby at all. "Yeah, sure," she said, grabbing Lindsey's hand and resting it where she had felt him move. "Wait just a second…" as if on cue, the baby kicked again. _

"_Wow," Lindsey breathed, feeling a swift bump against her hand. "That is __**so**__ weird." _

"_Totally weird," Andy agreed, grinning._

* * *

><p>Things didn't magically get better after that – Lindsey was still jealous over the new baby at times, even though she knew it was stupid, and sometimes she still fought with her aunt and uncle, but looking back on it, Lindsey was almost glad for the fights – it made them seem <em>normal. <em>Families fought, people argued, kids got grounded… in some weird way Lindsey was thankful for it.

And a year and a half later, when Lindsey _was _ready (with Mark, ironically, the kid she'd hid from in the grocery store), she did talk to Andy.

"That's me!" Ben exclaimed, pulling Lindsey from her thoughts. He was pointing down to the first picture taken of him – a naked, screaming little baby on one of those hospital scales. It was taken literally two minutes after he was born. He hadn't even been cleaned up yet.

"Yep, buddy," Lindsey said, looking down at the picture and wrinkling her nose. "That's you." She turned to the next page, "And that's all of us with you."

It was a common enough picture – proud parents holding their new baby – but Lindsey could vividly remember it being taken.

* * *

><p><em>As soon as they were ready for visitors it seemed like the entire room swarmed with officers from her aunt and uncle's division and at one point, after she'd finally relinquished Ben back to Andy, Traci held up a camera. "Family picture!" she said, motioning Sam over to Andy's bed.<em>

_Lindsey tried to shrink back into the corner, not certain she was to be included in the picture. She was, after all, not their biological child. _

"_Wait, wait, wait," she heard Andy say, glancing around the room. "Where's Lindsey? She's got to be in the picture, too." _

"_Lindsey, sweetie," it was her uncle, waving her over. "Come 'ere. We're taking a picture."_

_It was like the sea of officers parted for her as she made her way to the bed and when she reached them Sam, from the other side of the bed, threw his arm around both Lindsey and Andy's shoulders, pulling them all together. "Alright," Andy said, holding Ben who was wrapped up like a burrito, "We're ready now."_

* * *

><p>They flipped through some more pictures, Ben's first Halloween and Christmas, and Lindsey told him everything that she could remember about his costume and about the presents that he had gotten. They kept going until Lindsey stopped at another picture, taking a moment to remember when it was taken.<p>

"What are we doing there?" Ben asked.

"That's the first time you went camping," Lindsey told him.

It looked like any other happy family picture, but if someone spent any time studying it they'd be able to tell that Sam's smile was forced and exaggerated while Andy's smile was hollow and her eyes lacked any sort of spark.

* * *

><p><em>They lost a baby when Ben was almost two.<em>

_Andy was twelve weeks along when they learned that there was no longer a heartbeat and after waiting a few days to see if her body would miscarry naturally, she had to have surgery to remove it. _

_It was, without a doubt, one of the most devastating things that Sam had ever been through, not necessarily because of his own grief but because he had to watch Andy walk through it without any way to make it better or ease her pain. _

_She broke down at the doctor's office when they didn't hear the heartbeat through the Doppler or see the little blinking heart on the sonogram machine (actually, she started tearing up in the waiting room, "I don't know, Sam, I don't know – I just think something's wrong") and then on their way home silent tears trailed down her face. She tried to pull it together in the driveway, wiping her cheeks dry and asking if her makeup looked okay. It was a mess – streaky mascara or something was smudged under her eyes and right above her lip her skin was rubbed raw - but Sam told her she looked beautiful anyway, and meant it. _

_Lindsey was there when they walked into the house – it was during the first few weeks of summer so she had just gotten out of school – and Andy made Sam tell her what had happened, afraid that she'd get too choked up to do it. Lindsey's face fell, completely stricken, and tears filled her eyes as she hugged her uncle first and then Andy, repeating over and over, "I'm so sorry." _

_There was nothing else to say, really; nothing that could make it better. _

_Andy didn't cry again until later that night when they were alone in their room, clinging to him with her arms wrapped tight around him and her face pressed into his neck. _

_Sam didn't see her cry much after that; he could hear her sometimes, through the bathroom door, quiet sobs that were almost drowned out by the noise of the shower. He would knock and ask her to let him in, but she never did. _

_Andy took off a week of work after her surgery, but Sam was only able to get a couple of days – he was thankful she had the time to rest and heal but he worried about her constantly and felt like he was moving through a fog. He had the very unpleasant task of telling everyone what had happened and dealing with people's sympathy, while he appreciated it, was not something he enjoyed. Work, which before had been his escape from anything that might be going on at home, seemed incredibly pointless and he counted the minutes until he could get home. Everything was blurry, like all of his sensations were dulled, and he gave himself headaches trying to concentrate on what people were saying to him. _

_Frank had to have noticed but instead of putting him on desk duty he paired him with Oliver for a solid week; Sam tried to remember to thank him for that – there was no way he would have made it through the week with someone else. _

"_You wanna talk about it, brother?" Oliver asked at the beginning of every day. _

_Sam crossed his arms and looked out the window. "Nope," he said, and Oliver dropped it. Then, on the fourth day, "I can't get her to eat anything." _

_Oliver nodded slowly, mulling it over. "Did you try that Thai takeout place she likes?" _

"_No," Sam admitted, letting out a heavy sigh and rubbing his temples. "I didn't even think of that." _

"_Worth a shot," Oliver replied. _

_Andy ate half a carton worth of pad thai that night – it was a step, more than she'd eaten all week._

_She was still good with Ben, attentive and present to his needs. She rocked him for hours at night, long after he fell asleep and sometimes long after she would fall asleep. Sam would find them both in the rocking chair in the nursery, Ben's sweaty toddler body sprawled limp across Andy's chest and both of them with their mouths hanging open slightly. He would pick Ben up and put him in his crib and then walk Andy back down to their bedroom, steadying her as she stumbled down the hall. _

_Possibly the most concerning thing was the fact that she didn't want him to touch her – ever since the first night when she'd wrapped her arms so fiercely around his neck that he wondered if she was actually trying to climb inside of him, she hadn't wanted to be touched at all. Or seen without her clothes on. She went so far as to change in the closet one night. _

_Sam would have been irritated but every time she flinched away from him or rolled to the edge of the bed it absolutely broke his heart. He knew that she was hurting, not just emotionally but physically hurting, the way she pulled her knees up to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut – he'd seen that look before and knew what it meant – but instead of getting him to spread his hand out over her stomach or rub her back, she wouldn't let him help. It was completely foreign to him, not being allowed to touch her. Never, in all of their time together, had she ever shut down like that – most of the time it was the opposite and they found comfort in each other when things got bad. _

_He thought it would get better when she went back to work, but it didn't. She walked around like a shell with this empty, vacant smile on her face so that people wouldn't ask too many questions. She did her job and did it well, but she lacked any excitement or drive to go the extra mile or just look one more time, the kind of puppy-dog enthusiasm that made Sam want to simultaneously roll his eyes and jump her bones._

_It was just… It was bad enough to lose the baby and yes, he was sad about that, but losing Andy was killing him. _

_So, one day he called Lindsey and told her to go to the store and get camping supplies – a tent and whatever else they needed – because they were going to pack up as soon as they got home and head out for the weekend. Andy didn't seem too thrilled with the idea but she went along with it, traipsing through the campground with Ben on her back until they found the perfect spot. She took over then – getting the tent set up, lighting a fire, teaching Lindsey how to hang their food from a tree so the bears couldn't get it. For a brief second, her face lit by the orange and red light from the fire, Sam saw the old Andy return. _

_Then, later when both Ben and Lindsey were snoring away, Andy whispered into the night, "Sam?" _

_Sam blinked, trying to adjust his eyes so he could see her in the dark. "Yeah?" _

_She sniffled. "I'm cold." _

_Her voice was so small and so quiet. He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "You want me to get you a sweatshirt?" _

"_No," she said, and he heard her sleeping bag unzip. "Just… can you come over here, please?" _

_He unzipped his own sleeping bag and rolled over to her, scooting up right behind her back. She was warm all the way down the front of his chest and she slid herself just a fraction of an inch closer, nestling into the curve of his body. He curled one arm around her waist and then, when she didn't protest, hesitantly slid his hand under the hem of her shirt and smoothed his fingers out over her warm stomach. When he felt her relax into him he dropped his head onto her shoulder and let out a breath he'd been holding in for a month. "Is this okay?" he asked, mumbling into the crook of her neck. She nodded and the bump of her ponytail hit him in the face. "Okay," he said, trying to stay very still. "Okay."_

* * *

><p>When she'd gotten the pictures from the camping trip back she pulled out the family picture and asked Andy if she could put it in the album along with a couple of others – one of Ben splashing around in the lake wearing only his diaper, holding on to Sam's hand and one of Sam and Lindsey bending over the fire, trying to make S'mores.<p>

Andy took the picture from her and stared at it for a moment. She smiled sadly and Lindsey worried for a second that she might cry, but then this peaceful expression crossed her face. "Yeah," she said, handing it back. "Life happens. It's not like we can change it, we've just got to stick together and move forward. It's a good picture."

Lindsey smiled sadly looking down at it, remembering just how sad her aunt had been. In a way it brought them closer together – Lindsey had been home after Andy's surgery and they'd spent hours and hours watching movies and bad daytime television. They didn't really talk about it but Lindsey knew that sometimes it was enough just to be together.

Andy – when she'd first come into their lives – had been able to comfort Lindsey in a way no one else really had; she'd sit with her all day and she'd listen when Lindsey wanted to talk and she'd talk when Lindsey didn't want to. Even though the circumstances were different, Lindsey just hoped that she'd been able to provide the same measure of comfort.

She was away at university when Andy found out that she was pregnant with Will and while Lindsey had been worried that the same thing might happen again, she couldn't remember ever being more excited for her aunt and uncle.

Lindsey flipped the page over to the next group of pictures – her graduation from high school. She was about to tell Ben all about it when she felt a heavy weight on her arm. When she looked down she saw that Ben had fallen sound asleep. She smiled and carefully extracted herself from the bed, gently lowering Ben's head down to his pillow. He had a stuffed animal he slept with just like Will did – a soft, worn elephant cleverly named Mr. Peanut – and when Lindsey tucked it against him he reflexively wrapped his thin little arms around it. Pulling the comforter up to his chin, she brushed his hair off his forehead and pressed a kiss there. "Goodnight buddy," she whispered, slipping out of his room.

She switched over a load of laundry, making sure to turn the annoying signal off, and then went downstairs to watch television until she heard her aunt and uncle come in the back kitchen door.

"Hey Lindsey," Andy called across the open room. "We're home."

They made quite the pair; aside from a little gray at his temples, which Lindsey thought didn't look that bad, kind of distinguished actually, her uncle hadn't aged at all since she first came to live with him and her aunt was still one of the prettiest women that Lindsey knew. Having kids had softened her features a little and underneath her black wrap dress her belly was already swelling with baby number three.

("Look at this," Andy whined, standing in her closet as she tried to decide what to wear that evening. She took a deep breath and pushed her stomach out, framing her bump with her hands. "I'm barely three months along and I look like I'm halfway through the second trimester."

It was true – she was definitely showing sooner with this baby. "Well…" Lindsey said, scrunching her nose, "I mean, you did _just_ have Will."

Andy yanked a couple of dresses off of the rod. "Yeah, I know," she huffed. "It's your uncle's fault."

"Pretty sure you were there too, sweetie," Sam called immediately, almost automatically, from the bathroom.

Andy froze and narrowed her eyes, letting her jaw drop open in disbelief. "Really babe?" she yelled back. "You really want to get into this right now?"

"I'm just saying, it's not like I made that kid all on my own," Sam retorted, like they'd had the argument before. Lindsey wasn't sure why they bothered acting upset about it – it wasn't like either of them was anything less than thrilled about having another baby.

Andy came out of the closet, hands on her hips. "Yeah, but you were definitely the one that was supposed to…"

"Alright then," Lindsey interrupted her, suddenly feeling very awkward. She popped off the bed and made her way to the door. "I'm just gonna go get started my laundry."

"Hey, wait, hold on," Andy stopped her, holding two dresses up and switching off which one she held in front of her. "What do you think?"

Lindsey considered it for a moment and then told her, "Black one, definitely.")

"Were the boys okay?" Sam asked, throwing his wallet and keys into a bowl on the counter and pulling at his tie. "Ben didn't give with you any trouble about bedtime did he?"

Lindsey pushed herself up off the couch and went to sit on one of the stools. "No, they were both great," she said, resting her elbows on the counter and crossing her ankles. "Will went to sleep right away and Ben made it to the graduation page of the photo album before conking out."

A smile spread across her uncle's face, "Oh, yeah. He loves that thing."

"I'm sorry we made you babysit your first night home," Andy told her, holding on to Sam's hand as she pulled off her heels. "I'm sure it's not exactly how you planned to spend your Christmas break."

"Aw, it's no problem," Lindsey said, waving her hand and shrugging. "I missed the little rugrats. How was the party?"

"It was great," Andy beamed, "I actually got your uncle out on the dance floor this time."

"No way," Lindsey scoffed. "I don't believe it."

"I did, I swear," Andy insisted, grinning, "Michael Bublé does weird things to him."

"Yeah, it had nothing to do with your finger digging into my ribs," Sam remarked, rolling his eyes as he unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt.

Andy threw her head back, laughing. "I'm gonna go check on the boys and put on some sweats," she told them. "You guys up for a movie?"

"A Charlie Brown Christmas is on in twenty minutes," Lindsey told her, watching her walk towards the stairs.

"Perfect!" Andy called back, gathering an armful of toys on her way up steps.

When Lindsey looked back at Sam he grumbled, "Why do we watch that stupid movie every year?"

"It's tradition," Lindsey answered simply, shrugging. "Besides, do you really want to argue with her?"

Sam laughed and shook his head, "That hormonal mess? No way."

"She'd kill you if she knew you say that," Lindsey told him. She could imagine it – how red Andy's cheek would turn and how she'd probably snap, "I'm not _hormonal_, I'm _**pregnant**_."

"Well then," he said, winking at her, "Let's not tell her I said it."

Lindsey just laughed and hopped off her stool. "I'm gonna make some popcorn, want some?"

"I'm good but you know Andy'll want some," he said, fussing with the buttons on his cuffs. "I'm just going to change, I'll be back in a minute."

"'K," Lindsey replied, already digging into the pantry to retrieve the box of popcorn.

"It's good to have you home, kid," he said, ruffling her hair as he passed by. "It's not the same without you."


End file.
